


Specs and the Flyboy

by BerylRoses



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Humor, Mild Language, POV Third Person, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28487634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerylRoses/pseuds/BerylRoses
Summary: It was an undisputed fact that Jack Thompson, Chief of the New York SSR, and (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the Los Angeles SSR’s newly-hired codebreaker, hated one another from the moment they met. But what happens when an off-the-books investigation into Jack’s near-fatal shooting forces the two of them to put aside their differences and work together to solve the case?
Relationships: Ana Jarvis/Edwin Jarvis, Jack Thompson (Marvel)/Reader, Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

_August 1947_

_Los Angeles, California_

After checking her wristwatch for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, (Y/N) frowned in worry but continued to absentmindedly stir her tea as she once again rested her cheek in her palm. “C’mon, Peg, where are you?”

To say that she was surprised to receive her old friend’s call the day before would have been an understatement; she and Peggy had lost touch after the war due to…various reasons, and after the chaos of moving across country to Los Angeles, she’d realized that she lost Peggy’s telephone number. But despite the happiness she’d felt when they arranged to meet at her local automat, she now felt a sense of dread, because Peggy Carter wasn’t the sort of woman who would suddenly reconnect with someone without good reason. She’s also not the sort one can easily say ‘no’ to, she thought as her brow furrowed.

“(Y/N)?” (Y/N)’s head shot up to see the woman in question standing before her with a smile brightening her features. “Oh, it’s great to see you again!”

Jumping up from her seat, (Y/N) pulled her into a tight hug and let out a cheerful laugh. “Peg, you look wonderful! I think the past couple of years have been a bit kinder to you than me, though.”

“Nonsense,” Peggy pulled away and gave her an appraising look. “You’re as lovely as ever, (Y/N), this California sun definitely suits you!”

They sat down at the booth and exchanged pleasantries while a waitress poured them both fresh cups of tea; once the waitress walked back to the counter, Peggy set her teacup down and clasped her hands together. “You must be wondering why I asked to meet you after so long…or how I even managed to obtain your telephone number, for that matter…”

(Y/N) sipped her tea and shrugged noncommittally. “Well, I assumed it wasn’t because you wanted to swap old war memories. And as for my telephone number, I know first-hand how resourceful you can be. What’s going on, Peg?”

“As you know, I chose to continue working for the SSR once the war ended. After spending a year with the New York branch, I decided to transfer to the new West Coast branch here in Los Angeles.” Peggy’s brow furrowed as she pursed her lips. “We’re understaffed, (Y/N). This branch is bigger than New York’s, and we’ve been struggling to balance all our cases and operations with our severely limited manpower and to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure how much longer we can continue like this.”

“I’m sorry, it sounds like your agency is under a lot of stress but what’s all that got to do with me…?”

Peggy’s eyes flicked up from her tea to meet hers. “What we really need is a codebreaker.”

“Oh.” Looking down at her lap, (Y/N) fought to keep her voice from quaking as she spoke. “Peggy, you and I have known each other for a long time, been through thick and thin together. If you’d asked me for any other favor, I’d agree in a heartbeat, but this…?” She shook her head to rid of the memories that had resurfaced and began gathering her things. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“(Y/N), please-”

“No.” (Y/N)’s eyes began to water and she rapidly blinked away the tears as she regarded her old friend. “After Düsseldorf, I swore I’d _never_ work with the United States government again, and I don’t intend on going back on that any time soon. As my friend, I thought you’d understand that and respect my decision. There are other codebreakers out there willing to join the SSR, so go recruit one of them.”

Peggy’s hand darted forward grabbed her wrist to stop her departure. “None of them are nearly half as skilled as you are and you know it.”

“Let go, Peg.”

“Not until you hear me out. As your friend, I thought you’d at least extend me _that_ courtesy.” Arching her eyebrow, Peggy stared at her with an unwavering gaze and after a tense moment, (Y/N) settled back into her seat. “Thank you. I know that what happened to…well, I know it’s been difficult for you, these past few years. But you can’t allow your past to trap you in the shadows for the rest of your life. That’s a lesson I recently had to learn for myself, actually.” Letting go of her wrist, Peggy took her hand in hers as she spoke. “I promise you, what happened in Düsseldorf will _never_ happen again, not with the SSR. You have the opportunity to aid countless people with your skills, just as you did during the war, and you know as well as I do that a person’s desire to help others isn’t something that disappears easily, (Y/N).”

Shaking her head, (Y/N) looked down at their clasped hands. “Peg…I-I have to think this through…”

“Of course, take all the time you need.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. “I spend the majority of my time at the office, so don’t hesitate to call. And…it really has been lovely seeing you again, (Y/N), I’ve missed you.” Smiling kindly, she squeezed her hand before letting go and getting up from the booth, leaving the business card resting on the linoleum tabletop.

(Y/N)’s eyes trailed Peggy as she went to the front counter to pay her bill and walked out of the automat; once her friend disappeared through the revolving door, she let out the breath she hasn’t realized she’d been holding. She knew deep down that everything Peggy had spoken the truth, but that didn’t make the situation any easier for her to handle. Of course I miss being able to help others, she thought to herself, but I-

Her eyes drifted down to Peggy’s business card and her brow furrowed when she noticed neatly-written symbols surrounding the familiar logo of the SSR. Pulling her reading glasses out from her purse and slipping them on, she picked the card up and couldn’t suppress her exasperated smile when she finished translating the simple code Peggy had penciled in.

“May our glasses stay full, our guns stay loaded, and our garters stay on.” (Y/N) murmured, running her finger over the black ink as she recalled her and Peggy’s old drinking toast and the fateful night they’d created it…

_“A toast, my dear Agent (Y/L/N), to a successful first field mission!”_

_(Y/N) laughed and shook her head at her friend. “No, no, I can’t take all the credit, Peg! You were the one out there in the thick of it, guns blazing and everything. I just decoded some messages so you deserve the toast, too.”_

_Peggy pretended to ponder her answer before raising her glass and grinning, “Well, then, a toast to the both of us! May our glasses stay full…hmm, what should come after that?”_

_“Our guns stay loaded?” (Y/N) offered with a smile._

_“And our garters stay on!” They both exclaimed before clinking their glasses together and dissolving into a fit of giggles as they drank…_

“Damn you, Peggy Carter.” Ignoring all her doubts and uncertainties, (Y/N) jumped up from the booth and quickly paid for her tea before hurrying out of the automat after her old friend. Once she stepped out onto the sidewalk, her eyes landed on none other than Peggy, who was leaning against a lamppost as she examined her crimson-painted nails.

Peggy's attention remained on her nails until (Y/N) neared her and cleared her throat; she glanced up with a feigned look of surprise. “Oh, did I forget my lipstick in there? Honestly, I can be so forgetful sometimes, it’s-”

“Cut the crap, Carter.” (Y/N) lifted her hand and twirled the business card between her fingers. “This was a low blow, Peg, even for you. You seriously believed that you could _trick_ me into changing my mind by coding our old drinking toast?”

“Well, that depends. Did it work?”

“…Oh, shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Linked below is the Spotify playlist for this fanfiction, and it'll be updated every time I post a new chapter. Enjoy!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

_West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles_

“Sousa, I’ve got more important things to do this morning than interview some egghead pencil-neck geek with you. Go get your gal to do it.”

Jack glanced up from his paperwork in time to see Daniel roll his eyes in exasperation before answering. “I already told you, Jack, the codebreaker’s an old friend of Peggy’s and it would be a conflict of interest if she were present. Besides, she’s busy tracking down another lead on that shooter of yours.”

“Oh.” At Daniel’s words, the freshly-healed gunshot wound on his chest twinged uncomfortably, so Jack brought a hand up to furtively rub at it as he continued. “All right, _Chief_ , when’s this shin-dig supposed to happen? ‘Cause I ain’t got all day to wait around, you know.”

“Peggy said not until eleven, but it could be any time between then and now. Say, you mind waiting here while I take these files down to Samberly, in case the codebreaker shows up early?”

“Sure, just hurry up, would you? I don’t wanna be stuck talking gobbledygook alone with this guy.”

If there was one thing Jack truly despised, it was the way smarter people flaunted their intelligence and made others feel like crap for not knowing about things like quadratic equations and iambic pentameter. Jack was smart – he’d gotten into Cornell on his own merits, after all – but he was certainly no Einstein and that was fine by him. But he’d met _way_ too many people in college who thrived in making others like him feel that they were beneath them; he already believed the SSR had too many scientists on their hands, so he couldn’t understand why Sousa would hire yet another one to clutter the West Coast office.

Daniel stood and slid his arm into his crutch. “Aye aye, _Chief_.” After giving him a small salute, he grabbed his files and limped out of their shared office.

Unable to refocus on his paperwork, Jack tossed his pen down on the desk, leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles on the edge of the desk as he allowed his thoughts to wander. Nearly a month ago, he’d been shot in his hotel room as he prepared to head back to New York after they solved the Zero Matter case; the hotel staff had found him right after and from what the doctors said, he’d have been a cooked goose if they’d shown up any later. But unfortunately, since he’d been the target of an attack by an unknown suspect or organization, he was forced to stay in Los Angeles with the West Coast SSR until the case was either solved or closed.

Hopefully that’ll be any day now, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw in annoyance; he hated everything about Los Angeles, from its absurd traffic jams and sweltering heat to the utter lack of any decent food. He hated the fact that he wasn’t a real chief, that as long as he was in Los Angeles, he was virtually useless. The women were all good-looking but with the open case and…well, his _own_ off-the-books investigation, he sadly didn’t have any time to chat up dames…

“Um, Chief Sousa?” Jack’s eyes flew open and landed on a woman standing in the doorway with a hesitant look on her face. Speak of the devil, he thought with an inward smirk. “I’m sorry to, ah, disturb you, Chief Sousa, but we have an appointment…?”

Jack yawned and stretched his arms out. “You’ve got the wrong guy, doll, the name’s Jack Thompson. Sousa’ll be back any minute, though, he’s just takin’ care of some paperwork.”

The woman nodded in understanding. “Do you mind if I sit here and wait for him, then?”

“Go ahead.” She gave him a nod of thanks and took a seat in the chair beside Sousa’s filing cabinet; she immediately pulled out a file from her purse and a pair of wire-framed glasses, which she slipped on before beginning to skim the file. Jack observed her with mild curiosity from his own seat; the sunlight streaming through the office’s window illuminated the woman’s smooth skin and made her styled (Y/H/C) hair nearly glow, and her (Y/E/C) eyes, although partially obscured by her reading glasses, had an intensity to them that intrigued him. The women of Los Angeles were all knock-outs, sure, but the one sitting across the room from him had a quiet and effortless beauty to her that had instantly caught his attention; it wouldn’t hurt to try your luck with her, he told himself, could be worth a shot.

He was jostled from his thoughts when she suddenly spoke up, her eyes still trained on her file. “I’d appreciate it greatly if you’d stop ogling me like that.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He bit his lip as he tried thinking of another approach. “So, um, what’re you here to see Sousa about?”

“I’m afraid that’s between me and your boss.” The woman looked up from her file with a raised eyebrow and after appraising him for a moment, her gaze softened. “But if we’re asking questions, then why’re you in the chief’s office and not in the bullpen with all the other agents?”

Jack leaned father back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head with an easy-going shrug. “Just keeping his seat warm, helping him out with some cases, that sort of thing. You know, it’s a wonder how the branch managed to get anything done before I came along.”

“Well, then, I suppose it’s a good thing you’re here holding down the fort.” She quipped, closing her file and taking off her glasses. “I’ve heard talk that this branch was having a, ah…well, a challenging time running smoothly.”

He chuckled. “You could say that again. You know what the chief’s doing now? He’s gonna hire another egghead, this time a _codebreaker_. Can you believe that?”

The woman didn’t smile or laugh, but instead furrowed her brow. “I take it you don’t approve of codebreakers, Agent.”

“I don’t mind ‘em but let me put it this way: it’s post-war America and the last thing the SSR needs at a time like this is another pencil-necked, stuttering brainiac who thinks they’re better than everyone else just ‘cause they’re a little bit smarter. And it’s actually Chief, not Agent.” Jack corrected, grinning with self-assurance as he swung his legs off the desk and leaned forward in his chair. “Chief Thompson. What about you, doll, what’s your name?”

The woman crossed her arms and spoke, her voice all of the sudden dripping with malice. “Two chiefs for one office? I guess Peg was right about this branch…not that I was expecting any better of the SSR, of course. In my experience, government agencies have always been prone to stupidity.”

For the first time in a long while, Jack struggled to find his words and finally settled on, “You know Marge.”

“If you’re talking about Peggy Carter, then yes, she’s the one who recommended me for the open position of pencil-neck, stuttering brainiac.” She rose from her seat with narrowed eyes and placed her hands on her hips. “And it seems to me that all the issues with the SSR could be quickly resolved if there were more of _us_ around and less of you arrogant, self-absorbed _flyboys_.”

His indignation rising, Jack jumped to his feet and stepped around the desk to stand before her with his arms crossed. “And apparently I was right about _specs_ always needing to be the smartest in the room. You know, that sort of attitude could get you into a lotta trouble someday-”

“Are you threatening me, Chief Thompson?”

“So what if I am?! I outrank you, and I-!”

“Hey!” Daniel voice cut through the room, and Jack’s head whipped around in time to watch the chief limp into the office and slam the door closed behind him. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Jack, the whole damn building can hear you!”

Jack pointed an accusing finger at the woman. “Sousa, you can’t seriously be considering hiring this…this _dame_!”

“Call me ‘dame’ one more time and I’ll take that finger of yours and shove it right up your-”

“Whoa whoa whoa! Let’s all calm down, shall we?” Jack let out a huff of frustration and flopped back down at his chair, watching as Daniel took a step towards the woman and offered her his hand. “I’m really sorry about all that, Miss…?”

The woman hesitated a moment before giving his hand a shake. “(Y/L/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N). It’s good to finally meet you, Chief Sousa, Peggy’s told me quite a bit about you.”

“All good things, I hope. Peg told me a little bit about you too, but I was hoping to learn more during this interview.” He gestured for her to sit in the chair facing his desk and as she situated herself, he made his way around his desk and set his crutch to the side before taking a seat. “Um, just pretend Chief Thompson isn’t here. I’m legally required to have another SSR agent sit in on interviews and he’s the only one not busy right now, so…”

(Y/N) shot Jack a contemptuous glare before smiling kindly at Daniel and handing over her file. “Oh, that certainly won’t be a problem, Chief.”

“All right, then let’s get things started. Can you tell me a little about your background and your experience with codes?”

“Of course. I graduated from Stanford University in 1940 and served five years overseas; two years stationed at the Government Code and Cypher School at Bletchley Park in London and the other three in the field with the OSS. You’ll see in my file that while I was officially an OSS operative, I was loaned out to the SSR to serve as a field codebreaker and upon Captain Rogers and Colonel Chester Phillips’ recommendation, I was assigned to the Howling Commandos to serve as their personal codebreaker from 1943 to 1945. I’ve worked with and have mastered dozens of variants of codes, and I was one of the minds behind the Native American Code Talkers. In the field, I took part in over fifty missions with the OSS, the SSR and the Howling Commandos; the intelligence I decoded aided in the take-down of all Hydra bases and was integral to several other highly-classified operations that I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

Daniel let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “That’s quite the resumè, Miss (Y/L/N). It says here in your file that you trained Agent Carter in codebreaking at Bletchley Park?”

While (Y/N) gave her reply, Jack jotted down a quick note on the corner of his report. Once he finished, he gave Daniel’s foot a nudge and tilted the report in his direction so the chief could read it.

“So, um, Miss (Y/L/N), have you…?” Daniel’s eyes darted between Jack’s note and the codebreaker’s face. “Ah…” Sighing, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Jack, your handwriting’s shit so you might as well ask her your own damn question yourself.”

Jack scowled and met (Y/N)’s annoyingly expectant gaze. “Have you _actually_ been trained as an agent or did the Howlies babysit you during the war?”

“ _Thompson!_ ”

“It’s all right, Chief Sousa. To answer your question, Chief Thompson: yes, I received basic training before I was assigned to the field, the same as any other soldier.” She raised a questioning eyebrow. “Do you have any other questions for me? I want to be sure that you’re on the same page as we are.”

Jack clenched his jaw. “Where do you get off-?”

“Thank you for coming in, Miss (Y/N).” Daniel got to his feet and shook her hand again. “I still need to run a couple routine background checks but as far as I’m concerned, you’re hired. You’ll get a call from me once everything is set.”

The codebreaker’s face broke into a grin as she stood. “Thank you, Chief Sousa. I’m looking forward to working with codes and the SSR again, and I’ll be sure to keep a lookout for that phone call. I hope you have a good rest of your day!”

She collected her things and walked out of the office without so much as a passing glance at Jack, who let out a snort of derision. “Sousa, you must _really_ be flipping your lid this time, you can’t seriously hire-”

“Don’t tell me how to run my office, Thompson. We needed a codebreaker and she’s easily the most qualified applicant we’ve had.” Daniel snapped, sitting back down and resuming his paperwork. Jack couldn’t help but feel a little impressed; Daniel had come a long way from being a meek agent in NYC, even if he occasionally made stupid decisions like hiring (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

After about fifteen minutes, Daniel looked up from his work with a curious expression. “You know, I’ve never seen you so antsy about a woman before. What’s up?”

Jack shrugged. “I dunno, but something about her just rubs me the wrong way. We better find my would-be murderer soon so I can get the hell back to New York and never see her again.”

Daniel appeared as if he’d reply, but at that moment Peggy entered the office; the chief’s expression softened as he gave her a smile, looking every bit the lovesick idiot he was. “Hey, Peggy, how’d your lead pan out?”

“It didn’t, unfortunately. My potential witness was involved in an automobile accident early this morning, I arrived at the scene just after the coroner.” Peggy’s eyes flicked to Jack’s and softened with sympathy. “It seems as if you’ll be staying with us a while longer, Thompson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I added the links to two articles about the female codebreakers of World War I and World War II that I based (Y/N)'s character on, in case anyone's interested in a little background information :)
> 
> https://alumnae.mtholyoke.edu/blog/code-breakers-at-mhc/  
> https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20171009-the-female-code-breakers-who-were-left-out-of-history-books
> 
> Linked below is the Spotify playlist for this fanfiction, and it'll be updated every time I post a new chapter. Enjoy!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

_West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles_

Despite the reservations she first held about re-joining the SSR, (Y/N) had slowly but surely grown to enjoy working for the federal agency. The other agents were surprisingly welcoming of her and most importantly, she was able to work with codes again, something she had missed dearly since the end of the war.

Well, there are also things about this place I definitely _don’t_ enjoy, she thought to herself as she watched Jack Thompson stroll through the bullpen. When she first laid eyes on him, she recalled thinking he was handsome and that he looked charming when he smiled; her opinion of him, however, changed drastically the moment he said something idiotic. For the past two weeks, she’d hoped that he would return to his New York branch to no such avail, so she resolved to avoid him altogether.

“Glaring at him won’t make him go away any sooner.” (Y/N)’s head whipped around to see Peggy leaning against her desk with a smirk on her face. “Believe me, I’ve tried many times with that one.”

She shrugged, sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms. “Still worth a shot, isn’t it? What can I do for you, Peg?”

“These coded messages came through from an informant of mine, but I’m having a difficult time decoding them.” Peggy handed her several pieces of paper with numbers and symbols scribbled on them and continued as (Y/N) slipped on her reading glasses to take a closer look. “I’ve already told him that codes aren’t needed for our correspondence but the man’s as stubborn as a mule…”

“Your informant’s name wouldn’t happen to be Harry Belwill, would it?” Peggy nodded and (Y/N) laughed. “I knew it, Harry’s codes were always easy to spot! He’s the one I told you about, the one I was partnered with when I was first recruited into the codebreaking class at Stanford.”

Peggy’s eyes dawned with realization. “Ooooh, so _he’s_ the Canadian fellow who had the disastrous affair with that American nurse!” She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I’ll have to ask him about that. Do you think you can decode them?”

(Y/N) nodded, reaching for her pen and a pad of paper and beginning her work as she replied, “Of course I can. You see, each codebreaker has their own style when it comes to their codes and depending on the skill of the codebreaker, their codes could either be difficult to crack or only _look_ difficult to crack. It’s simple but you’d be surprised how easily you could fool someone like that.” She chuckled in amusement and continued to jot down the translated messages. “And if you happen to personally know the codebreaker and their style, it’s even easier. When I knew Harry, he was fascinated with the idea of blending two different codes together; I guess he still feels the same because with these codes, he decided to blend a Caesar Shift and an A1Z26. Simple, but effective…here you go!”

“You know, (Y/N), you’re easily the smartest person I’ve ever met.” (Y/N) grinned bashfully and waved her off, but Peggy continued. “I’m serious! The SSR is far better off now that you’re here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t even be here if not for you and your _charming_ persistence, Peg.” (Y/N) smirked up at her old friend as she shrugged noncommittally. “Did you want to go and grab some lunch at the diner? I’m having a hankering for a turkey and Swiss, and-”

“Agent Carter, Agent (Y/L/N), can I see you two in here for a minute?” Daniel’s voice called out from his office’s open doorway. Giving Peggy a look of confusion, (Y/N) stood and followed her old friend into the chief’s office. “I just got a call from the L.A.P.D. and they need to consult with the SSR on a bank robbery; I’m assigning you two and Thompson onto this one.” (Y/N) pursed her lips to hide her displeasure as he handed Peggy a file. “This is Level Three, so you’ll need to leave for the crime scene as soon as you can.”

Peggy nodded. “Of course.” She turned to (Y/N) and handed her the file. “Do you mind driving?”

“Of course not, I’ll go bring the car around…and _if_ I see Thompson, I suppose I’ll let him know about the case.” She gave the two of them a tight smile and left the office before grabbing her purse from her desk. Turning to leave the bullpen, she caught sight of Peggy and Daniel through the open doorway; they spoke in hushed tones, Daniel grinning at something Peggy said before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her lips. They’re so adorable that it’s borderline sickening, (Y/N) smiled to herself and continued on her way out of the office. She was happy for her friend; after seeing how difficult the death of Steve Rogers had been on her, it was nice to see that she had moved on from her grief and reopened her heart to a good man like Daniel Sousa.

Ten minutes later, (Y/N) parked in front of Auerbach Theatrical Agency and began flicking through the file Peggy had given her. It appeared to be a standard bank robbery, but the way the crime scene was described gave her pause because there was no way the vault door could have actually been-

“1946 Chevrolet Fleetmaster Convertible. A nice make and model, sure, but the color’s a little flashy for my taste.”

After closing her eyes in exasperation and exhaling through her nose, (Y/N) regarded Jack Thompson with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry, did you say something? The pattern of your tie distracted me; I almost mistook it for a picnic blanket.”

Jack only smirked and leaned his hip on her car. “Cute. Don’t forget that this is your first case, _Specs_ , so Carter and I are taking point. Do us a favor and stay out of our way.”

“Oh, believe me, the last thing I’d ever want is to be in your way, _Flyboy_.” She snapped back, flipping the file closed and taking off her reading glasses before crossing her arms. “Now, are you going to lean against my car all day or are you going to get in?”

“Stop squabbling, you two, we have work to do.” Peggy brushed past Jack, opening the passenger side door and sliding in; Jack scoffed and Peggy gave him an impatient look. “The backseat’s all yours, Thompson.”

As much as the cocky asshat annoyed her, (Y/N) couldn’t deny the feeling of satisfaction that came from watching a fuming Jack Thompson awkwardly clamber into the backseat of her emerald-green car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You must be the SSR!” A short-statured officer with thinning hair approached them the moment they entered the bank. “David Learman, I’m the officer in charge of this case.”

Peggy shook his outstretched hand. “I’m Agent Carter, this is Agent (Y/L/N) and Chief Thompson. If you could direct us to the scene of the crime, Officer Learman, that would be very helpful.”

“Of course.” Officer Learman turned and led them through the police-filled bank. “I wasn’t sure who to contact about this, it’s like nothin’ I’ve ever seen before.”

Jack remained unfazed. “Well, we’ve seen a lotta things in our time so you called the right people. Got any leads on suspects yet?”

Officer Learman shook his head. “Not a damn one. The robbers caused a diversion that distracted the guards just long enough for them to break into the vault. Stole up to forty thousand dollars in gold, and they were long gone by the time the guards suspected anything and checked the vault.”

“Excuse me, Officer, but I was reading the brief description of the crime scene and something about it sounded a little off. It said that the vault door had been _melted_ …?”

“Take a look for yourself, Agent (Y/L/N).” Officer Learman stopped walking and stepped out of the way, and the sight before them made (Y/N) gasp aloud. The bank’s enormous vault was open and what remained of its thick metal door laid in a silvery puddle on the ground; beside the puddle sat a chrome colored rectangular box with different colored buttons along its side. Other officers gathered in small groups around it, muttering to each other as they gave the puddle looks of apprehension. “We think they accidentally dropped that doo-hickey on the way out.”

(Y/N)’s blood began to boil when she caught one officer staring wolfishly at Peggy’s backside, but before she could say or do anything, Peggy stepped forward and addressed the men. “The SSR is taking over this case; I need the crime scene cleared and I need to speak to all the witnesses you have. I also will require every single piece of evidence your officers have collected so far.”

“Hey, who do you think you are, lady, comin’ here and stealin’ our case?”

Jack turned towards the source of the voice. “Federal agents of the United States government, so unless you wanna spend some time in a federal penitentiary for obstruction of justice, I suggest you back off and do as Agent Carter says. _Capiche_?”

The officers all quickly nodded and began carrying out Peggy’s demands, making her old friend quietly chuckle. “They always require that small push, don’t they? Thompson, I want you to interview those witnesses and secure the statements they already gave to the police. And try not to intimidate them, we need all the information we can get.”

“Not a problem, Marge, I can be charming.” He flashed her a wink and grin.

“Agent (Y/L/N), I want you to take samples of the liquid and document that device. Don’t let it out of your sight, as it’s currently our only piece of evidence.” Peggy ordered. “I’m going to go speak with Officer Learman to make sure the case transfer goes smoothly, and I’ll call in the SSR’s crime scene cleaners. Once you finish, head back to the office with the Thompson and the evidence; I’ll hitch a ride back with the cleaners.” She gave her a bolstering pat on the shoulder before leaving.

Jack turned to (Y/N) with a scathing look. “Try and be quick, won’t you? We don’t have time to sit around and wait for an egghead to figure out how to document a crime scene.” Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving her quietly seething at his patronizing words. Rise above it, girl, she thought as her jaw tightly clenched, don’t stoop to that ass’s level.

With the equipment the police officers had reluctantly allowed them to use, (Y/N) set about snapping photographs and collecting samples of the silvery substance. She filled three glass evidence jars and labeled them, careful that the liquid stayed away from her bare skin. Once she secured the jars in a leather bag stamped with the symbol of the SSR, she slipped on her reading glasses and turned her attention to the strange metallic device that laid beside the silvery puddle.

“That doo-hickey must’ve really packed a wallop!” She glanced up to see a dark-haired officer standing near her, his eyes filled with wonder as he took in the crime scene. “This somethin’ you’ve seen before, Agent (Y/L/N)?”

The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth curved into a smile; judging by his child-like giddiness and youthful face, she assumed that he was a rookie officer. “I can’t say that I have, Officer…?”

“Oh, it’s Zhang, Officer Henry Zhang.” Henry shook her hand and flashed her a bright grin. “I’m pretty new ‘round here, I’ve only been a cop for seven months.”

“You’ve been at this longer than I have, then; I’ve only been with the West Coast SSR for two weeks now.” (Y/N) bent down and retrieved the metallic rectangle, careful not to press any of its buttons as she examined it. Her eyes trailed along the metal, looking for anything that could indicate what it was or where it came from, and at the bottom of the device, she was rewarded with a small etching. “Officer Zhang, would you mind handing me the magnifying glass by my case?”

He quickly followed her request and silently watched as she took a closer look at the mark; it appeared to be some sort of coat of arms, and she could make out an etching of a horse surrounded by vines. Unfortunately, part of the etching had been damaged so it was impossible to see the entire coat of arms. “Can you hold this while I grab the-”

“Camera?”

She looked up to see her camera already in his hands, and she couldn’t repress her surprised chuckle. “You’re a fast one, Officer Zhang.”

Henry shrugged. “Ah, it’s just nice to feel helpful, ya know? The other guys still treat me like a kid, so I don’t get to do a lot of hands-on investigation at crime scenes. You want me to get a few shots of the doo-hickey?”

Several chatter-filled minutes later, (Y/N) completed all her evidence documentation and had learned the abridged life story of Officer Henry Zhang; as he rambled on and on about his job and family, all (Y/N) could think about was that the L.A.P.D. was lucky to have someone as thoroughly dedicated to their job as Henry Zhang was.

“Well, Officer Zhang, it was wonderful talking with you, and thank you for all your help with the evidence!” (Y/N) snapped the case shut before taking off her glasses. “And I wouldn’t worry about the others if I were you. You’re an incredibly dedicated officer, so don’t let them make you believe you’re not; who knows, maybe one day you might be _their_ superior officer!”

“Wouldn’t that be swell!” Officer Zhang laughed and pulled a business card out from his shirt pocket before offering it to her. “You seem like a very capable agent, ma’am, but in case you ever need any help from the L.A.P.D., here’s my desk number.” After accepting his card, (Y/N) bid him goodbye and gathered her things before carrying it outside.

“I see you found an eager little beaver to do your work.”

She scoffed at Jack’s words and continued to walk towards her car without looking at him. “I didn’t realize it was against the policy of the SSR to ask for help during a joint investigation, I’ll be sure to discuss it with Chief Sousa when I get back to the office. Thank you for your concern, _Chief_.”

“I mean, it’s kinda surprising that a smart person like you needs the help of a rookie cop. From what I saw, though, you two were sharing a lot more than evidence processing tips.”

(Y/N) whirled around to face him, unable to ignore his jabs any longer. “Seriously, what the _hell’s_ your problem, Thompson?! All I’m trying to do is my job and you’re always standing there busting my ass for it! Do you get your rocks off bullying me, or do you seriously think that just because you’re the big strong Navy Cross winner you’ve got the right to order me around? Quite frankly, it’s pissing me the hell off so-”

“If you don’t like it, then go ahead and quit.” Jack strode up to her, his hands on his hips and a cruel smile. “You obviously can’t cut it working with the SSR again. You’re weak and you’re emotional, and you’re the last thing this agency needs at a time like this. So do everyone here a favor and leave, before you end up getting somebody killed.”

“ _Screw you_ , Thompson.” Feeling the tears beginning to well up in her eyes but unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, (Y/N) turned on her heel and stormed to her car; after securing the evidence in the trunk, she sped away from the bank and didn’t bother wiping the flood of tears away from her cheeks. She was far too preoccupied with reliving the painful memories of Düsseldorf, of the tragedy that she had failed to prevent in 1945.

_“Leave, before you end up getting somebody killed.”_

Jack Thompson didn’t have a single clue just how much blood (Y/N) already had on her hands, but no matter what she did or how hard she tried, she could never forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Linked below is the Spotify playlist for this fanfiction, and it'll be updated every time I post a new chapter. Enjoy!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

_Stark Mansion, Los Angeles_

Just once, it would be nice for something to work out in my favor, a frustrated Jack thought to himself, _just once._ After weeks of searching through countless Los Angeles telephone books, he’d finally made contact with an old Navy buddy from the war that could help him with his ongoing off-the-books investigation. Unfortunately, the man turned out to be absolutely useless; though he’d been an assistant codebreaker on a Navy Destroyer for several years, Seaman Luther Pulver hadn’t a single clue as to what sort of code was written in Peggy’s ‘uncovered’ file, the file that chronicled her supposed war crimes and the one that had been gifted to him by Vernon Masters. And to add to Jack’s growing annoyance, Pulver had innocently suggested he get into contact with a Bletchley Park codebreaker for assistance, unaware that the Chief of the New York SSR worked not twenty feet away from one and that she hated his guts with a fiery passion.

Since their contentious confrontation outside the bank a month earlier, Agent (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had avoided Jack like the plague and flat-out refused to utter a single word to him or even acknowledge his presence; if she for some reason had to directly address him, then it was with an icy demeanor that even Dottie Underwood couldn’t match. He’d never say it out loud, but (Y/N) intimidated him just as much as she annoyed him, and the thought of having to grovel to her to continue his investigation caused his stomach to twinge unpleasantly.

“Chief Thompson! I didn’t realize that you were still awake…” Jack glanced up from his scotch to see Edwin Jarvis standing in the doorway, dressed in red tartan pajamas with a glass of milk in his hand. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine, I was just going over some case files.” Jack downed the rest of his scotch and contemplated the butler. “Working for Stark, you must have a lot of experience dealing with dames. Do you mind if I ask you for a little advice?”

Jarvis’ eyebrows rose almost comically. “I feel I must remind you, Chief Thompson, that I have been most happily and _faithfully_ married to Ana for nearly five years, and-”

“Keep your pants on, Jarvis, that’s not the kind of advice I’m looking for.” Jack chuckled at the flustered expression on the butler’s face. “I need this one dame’s help with something at work, but she’s not exactly my biggest fan at the moment; how do I get her to help me without pissing her off even more?”

“Well, I may not know all the facts of this situation, Chief Thompson, but the first thing I suggest you do is refrain from calling this young lady a ‘dame.’” Giving Jack a reproachful look, Jarvis walked across the sitting room lowered himself into an armchair across from him. “And with that in mind, I would ask her _politely_ for her help while simultaneously pointing out that she’s the only person on the face of the earth who can possibly help you. Now, I observed during our dealings with Mr. Stark’s stolen inventions last year and the Zero Matter business several weeks back that you fancy yourself a hardened detective. I also observed that you have a quick temper and foul disposition whenever you’re slighted or wronged.” Jack opened his mouth to argue, but Jarvis merely held up his hand as he continued. “If you really require this young lady’s assistance, then the only piece of advice I can truly give you is to be anything but your usual, ah, _charming_ self.”

Rolling his eyes, Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You done insulting me, Jarvis, or you got a few more jabs saved up for emergencies?”

A coy smile played on Jarvis’ lips as he stood. “Working for Mr. Stark has taught me the importance of stockpiling ammunition; I believe the same could be said for witticisms. If you excuse me, I’ll be off to bed now, Ana will be missing her glass of milk.” With a tiny inclination of his head, Jarvis walked out of the room, but not before calling out over his shoulder, “I wouldn’t underestimate Miss (Y/L/N) if I were you, Chief Thompson, she’s as fierce as she is intelligent.”

Listening to the butler’s retreating footsteps, Jack couldn’t help but smirk at Jarvis’ words; when he was released from the hospital, Jack was extended an invitation from Howard Stark to stay at his Los Angeles mansion with the Jarvises and seeing no other option, he’d reluctantly accepted the offer. But the unusual couple had inexplicably grown on him; Jarvis was full of stories about his adventures as Stark’s butler and Ana cooked with the skill of a world-renowned chef. Things could’ve been a lot worse, Jack thought to himself, I could be shacking up with Sousa and his god-awful snoring.

But Jarvis _had_ been correct about one thing: if Jack wanted to move forward with his investigation, he needed to try and win the SSR’s top codebreaker over to his side, even if that meant changing his entire attitude towards her and her profession.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This better work, Thompson.” Jack muttered to himself before entering Lou’s Diner; the restaurant was moderately empty, save for a handful of occupied booths, and Jack was pleased to spot the back of Agent (Y/L/N)’s head near the end of the diner. Squaring his shoulders, Jack made his way over to her booth and spoke as he lowered himself into the seat across from her. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Agent (Y/L/N), but Sousa was yakkin’ my ear off back there. So, what’s good here?”

(Y/N)’s eyes flashed dangerously, but Jack kept his seat and pleasant mood. “I’m here on assignment, Chief Thompson, so why don’t you go take a long walk off a short pier?”

Jack nodded in understanding, ignoring her snarky jab and the swell of irritation that followed. “Your informant’s name is Jonathan Grant Williams, right?” (Y/N) blinked in surprise. “You see, my cousin’s name is Jonathan, my middle name is Grant and Williams was the name of my commanding officer in the Navy; I guess you’ve never read my file, huh?” He grabbed a menu off the table and began flicking through it; try as he might, he couldn’t deny that he was enjoying pissing off the codebreaker. “I haven’t had a good corned beef sandwich since before the war. The ham and cheese sounds good, too…”

“So, you lured me here under false pretenses. That’s interesting.” Jack was a little relieved to see that she appeared calm, but that feeling quickly dissipated when he heard the unmistakable _click_ of a pistol’s hammer being pulled back. “I’ll give you one minute to explain yourself, Flyboy, so you’d better start talking.”

Goddammit, Jarvis was right about her, Jack thought before quickly launching into an explanation. “You know all about the whole Zero Matter situation, right? Well, I kept that fake file Vernon Masters gave me to discredit Peggy and hid a copy of it at the SSR before I prepared to leave L.A.; lucky I did, too, ‘cause when I was shot, my would-be killer stole the original file from my suitcase and left me on the floor of that hotel room to die.”

The fingers of her free hand began to impatiently drum against the top of the table. “Thirty seconds, Flyboy…”

“That file’s somehow connected to my shooting.” He insisted. “Someone knew I had it and didn’t want me investigating it, so they tried to have me killed. I wanna find out who’s behind all this, but I need you and your codebreaking skills to decode parts of the file for me.” Jack pulled the file in question out of his briefcase and placed it on the table before sliding it over to her, along with a small black light. “Here it is, if you don’t believe me.”

With a look of skepticism, (Y/N) put on her reading glasses, opened the file and began scanning its contents, using the black light to illuminate the redacted words and sentences; he was relieved to see that the longer she read, the less angered she appeared to be.

“Hey, Specs, you weren’t _really_ gonna shoot me just now, were you?” The codebreaker didn’t answer, too engrossed by the file she was examining, and he exhaled loudly in obvious exasperation. “Well, that’s two women now who’ve threatened to shoot me this year…”

“Oh, really? I can’t imagine why; you have such a _charming_ personality, after all.” She mumbled sarcastically under her breath. “Relax, the gun wasn’t even loaded. Whoever wrote these codes…they must be a genius.” Her eyes met his, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I’ve worked with some of the most highly skilled coders and codebreakers in Europe, but I’ve never seen anything like these before.”

Jack’s frown deepened. “But you can crack ‘em, right?”

“It’ll take time, of course, but I think I could.” She sighed and furrowed her brow as her eyes continued to scan the file. “These war crimes, though…Peggy could never have done these things to another person. Torture, dismemberment, mass execution of civilians…it’s deplorable. Besides, we were working alongside the Howling Commandos during the summer of ‘44 and we were nowhere near where these incidents occurred.”

He only half-listened to her words, far too excited that his investigation was finally taking off. His elation quickly turned to confusion when she stared back up at him with a horror-struck expression. “What? What is it?”

(Y/N) pointed at the top of the file. “This file’s about an ‘M. Carter.’”

“Yeah, pretty sure I already said this is a fake file about Marge. You know, Specs, you really need to work on your listening skills-”

“Would you just _shut up_ and listen to me, Thompson?” She glanced around the diner and lowered her voice. “In 1940, Peggy’s older brother was reported missing in action and to this day, they’ve never recovered his body. His name…his name was Michael. _Michael Carter_. If this file is as real as you say it is, then Peggy’s brother not only survived the war but committed war crimes against Allied soldiers and innocent civilians for over five years.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Son of a bitch.”

His secret investigation had suddenly become even more complex than he could’ve possibly imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Linked below is the Spotify playlist for this fanfiction, and it'll be updated every time I post a new chapter. Enjoy!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

_West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles_

“Do you have any plans for this weekend, (Y/N)?”

(Y/N), who’d been busy shoving her files into her cluttered briefcase, glanced up at Peggy with an innocent smile. “Oh, nothing special. I was thinking of going to see that new Lauren Bacall picture but I haven’t decided yet. Aren’t you and Chief Sousa going down to San Diego for a couple of days?”

Peggy grinned. “Yes, Daniel’s cousin is lending us his beach house…”

Listening to Peggy talk about her and Daniel’s planned trip, (Y/N) felt a fresh wave of guilt as she watched her closest friend. It was difficult keeping secret the fact that her brother was not only alive but that there was documentation claiming that he’d committed unspeakable crimes against humanity during the war, especially since they’d just mended the rift that had formed between them after Düsseldorf. But until she and Jack were _absolutely_ certain about their theory, they decided not to tell Peggy about the case. Not exactly an easy feat, keeping something like this from Peggy Carter, (Y/N) thought to herself.

Wishing Peggy and Daniel a pleasant weekend, (Y/N) scooped up her briefcase and made her way out of the Auerbach Theatrical Agency, being careful to not appear nervous or suspicious. She got into her car and switched on the engine but didn’t drive away, instead opting to listen to the radio and tap her fingers on the steering wheel as she waited. Thankfully, she didn’t have long to wait this time.

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re decent at codebreaking, Specs, ‘cause you’d make a pretty shit spy.” Jack smirked as he got into the passenger seat of her car. “You fidget too much.”

“Hello to you too, Flyboy.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes at his snarky comment. “I think I’m closer to cracking the first code on page three, but I need to take a glance at some of my translation journals; Peggy kept stopping by my desk to talk, so I didn’t get as much done as I wanted to today. Did you find anything on Michael yet?”

Jack nodded, his eyes trained on the road as they drive through the streets of Los Angeles. “While Sousa was out getting lunch, I finally got into contact with my buddy Jeff in D.C. and he confirmed that both the British Armed Forces and the SOE listed him as MIA. I also got those files I requested last week from London, so we can take a look at ‘em over dinner.”

Since they couldn’t fully conduct their investigation at the SSR, (Y/N) and Jack had been conducting it at the diner a block away from her apartment. From their usual booth towards the back of the restaurant, (Y/N) would work on decoding while Jack poured over any file pertaining to Michael Carter. And so they wouldn’t draw suspicion from others, they would often end up eating dinner as they worked late into the evening.

“Explain to me again why we can’t do all this back at your place?”

(Y/N) gritted her teeth but kept her annoyance in check. “ _Because_ , my building manager doesn’t allow men on the premises. And we can’t do it at yours because Jarvis’ll tell Peg about it in a heartbeat, so we’ll just have to make-do with the diner until we find a new place.”

They drove in tense silence after that, (Y/N) hyper-focused on the road and Jack immersed in a case file, until they finally reached the diner. It was only after they parked and walked to the entrance did they notice that the restaurant was closed, the sign on the door claiming a family emergency.

“Dammit,” Jack swore under his breath before turning back to (Y/N) with a demanding look. “What now?”

Exhaling through her nose, (Y/N) racked her brains for an idea; unfortunately, there was only one that stood out. “All right, we’ll go to my place but you need to follow my instructions _to the letter_. If we get caught, I’ll be homeless and your ass’ll be grass, got it?”

Looking annoyingly amused by the whole situation, Jack listened to her plan and hurried off to the fire escape as (Y/N) entered her apartment building with a mask of innocence. Her grip on her briefcase’s handle tightened when she caught sight of Mrs. Espinoza, the stern building manager, reading a magazine behind the front desk, but she forced herself to remain calm and walk slowly up the staircase to the second floor. She had unlocked her door and was halfway into her small apartment when she heard a familiar voice call out her name; she locked eyes with Jack, who had frozen halfway through climbing into her window. Quick as a flash, she closed the door and turned to Mrs. Espinoza with a fake smile.

“Yes, Mrs. Espinoza?”

The older woman eyes her suspiciously. “You’re home early, Miss (Y/L/N). Are you alone?”

(Y/N) nodded and used her free hand to rub her forehead. “Of course, Mrs. Espinoza; I’m not feeling too well, so they sent me home a couple of hours early. I didn’t want Mr. Auerbach seeing me look so peaky.” Since Jack had been so kind to point out her tells, she was sure to keep her hands still and adopt a pained expression as she spoke. “He deserves to have a secretary who looks her best, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, of course, dear! You go right to bed, you hear me?” The older woman’s suspicion melted into motherly concern as she patted her arm before walking back downstairs.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, (Y/N) hurried into her apartment and was sure to lock the door behind her. She turned around just in time to see Jack emerging from her wardrobe with a smirk on his face. “I can’t believe she bought that load of crap; ‘He deserves to have a secretary who looks her best’?”

“She’s not exactly the brightest bulb in the bunch, is she? But she’s a hell of a force to be reckoned with if she catches you.” (Y/N) checked the lock again before moving across the room to turn on the radio. “This should mask our voices, but try not to make too much noise.”

They seated themselves at her small kitchen table and got to work; Jack would occasionally read sections of each file out loud and mutter under his breath about the messy state of her apartment while (Y/N) worked through the codes on Michael’s original file and tried tuning out his irritating comments. Their stomachs began grumbling not long after they started, having grown accustomed over the past few days to eating while they worked.

“You got any food in this joint?”

(Y/N) peered at Jack from over the top of her reading glasses, torn between annoyance and frustration as she watched him rifle through her refrigerator. “Nothing that’s cooked; my neighbor down the hall sometimes comes in and cooks dinners for the week in exchange for hair styling lessons, but she’s been busy visiting her grandfather in the hospital.” She took notice of the triumphant look on Jack’s face. “What?”

“Finally, something I can do that you can’t, Specs.” He chuckled as he pulled ingredients out of her pantry and set about boiling pasta; when he caught sight of her astonished expression, his smug grin only widened. “My ma taught me when I was a kid; she always said that the women in my life would have better things to do than slave away in a kitchen for me.”

“…Your ma’s a smart lady.”

Say what you want about Jack Thompson, but you can’t deny he’s an enigma, (Y/N) thought with the smallest of smiles on her face, turning her attention back to codebreaking while he cooked.

After eating a surprisingly delicious dinner, (Y/N) and Jack continued their work in comfortable silence, the only sounds coming from the radio and from the rustling of papers. As she worked, (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel the excitement bubbling inside her; she hadn’t been truly challenged by a code since the war, and the thought of cracking something so difficult reminded her of her lifelong passion for the art of codebreaking. Her excitement built when she jotted down her last translation, realizing she’d fully cracked the first code in Michael Carter’s file.

“I’ve got it!”

Jack’s head shot up and he dropped the file he’d been skimming on the table. “You cracked it?”

“The first code’s a name and address! Aaron Templeton, 68452 Ashbury Way, Los Angeles, California.” (Y/N) took off her reading glasses and hummed in contemplation. “That’s near the docks, so it’s probably a warehouse. Maybe there’s a–wait, what are you doing?”

He didn’t look her way as he gathered his files and stood to pull his jacket on. “I’m gonna go check out that address.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold it!” (Y/N) darted around him and planted herself between him and the open window. “I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am!” Jack attempted to move around her, but she was quick to block his way again. “You seriously think it’s a good idea to go in there without backup?”

He rolled his eyes. “’Course not, but I’d rather go in without backup than have _you_ getting in my way and screwing everything up.”

“Need I remind you that I’ve also been trained to go on missions?”

“So has Samberly, what’s your point?”

She felt her anger finally boil over. “ _My point_ is that I can help you, but you’re too much of a stubborn ass to admit that I’m anything more than a codebreaker!”

“You okay, (Y/N)?” The muffled voice of a woman called from the hallway, and both (Y/N) and Jack’s eyes simultaneously widened in horror. “I thought I heard voices!”

“I-I was just listening to a radio program, Shelly, I’m sorry if the noise disturbed you!” (Y/N) called back, hoping that the nosy woman would buy her flimsy story. “I’ll be sure to turn it down!”

There was a long pause before Shelly answered. “Okay!”

They both held their breaths until the woman’s footsteps faded away. Once she was sure Shelly was gone, (Y/N) focused her attention back on the man before her. “Like it or not, _Flyboy_ , I’m the best and only help you’ve got. If you don’t want it, then good luck finding another codebreaker.”

Jack glared down at her and (Y/N) stared back, her arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised in challenge. Finally, he let out a huff of defeat. “Fine. You can come but you follow _my_ lead, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” (Y/N) snorted, bringing her hand up to give him a sarcastic salute. “Lieutenant Junior Grade, sir.”

“Okay then, smart-ass, let’s get going.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So as not to draw suspicion to themselves, they parked several blocks away and used the darkness to their advantage as they silently made their way down the deserted streets. (Y/N) spared her companion a discreet glance; she understood Jack Thompson’s strong desire to find those responsible for his near-death – she understood the feeling all too well after her experiences in the war – but his apparent abhorrence for her remained a mystery. If this were any other case, I’d tell him to drop dead but since it’s not, I suppose I’ll have to be the bigger person, she thought to herself as she lengthened her strides to catch up to the agitated man.

“Do you respect Peggy Carter?”

Jack, whose eyes had been trained on the rooftop of the building before them, stopped in his tracks and gave her a look of bewilderment. “Yeah? Why’re you asking?”

“Humor me for a moment, please.” Squaring her shoulders, (Y/N) continued. “Since our respect for Peggy Carter is the one thing we can agree on, I propose a truce. We work on this case as partners, equal in _every_ aspect of the investigation, and we put aside our personal gripes with one another in order to successfully solve the case for her. Once we accomplish that, you’ll return to New York and we’ll never have to see one another again for the rest of our lives.” She held out her hand for him to shake. “Do we have a deal, Chief Thompson?”

Her speech seemed to have taken Jack by surprise; after a moment of hesitancy, he gave her hand a brief shake. “It’s a deal, Agent (Y/L/N).” He glanced back in the direction of the building. “All the windows on the north side are boarded up, looks like the fire escapes are a little worse for wear, too. I’ll take the left, you take the right; look for some kind of entrance we can use to get in.” He eyed the purse that was clutched in her hand with apprehension. “Might wanna get that gun of yours out, too.”

With her gun in hand, (Y/N) crept along the side of the building, her eyes scanning for entrance points as her ears listened for any unusual sounds. She turned the corner and was rewarded with the sight of a slightly ajar door; Jack came into view and hurried over when she gestured to the door. He raised his gun and with another nod, (Y/N) flung open the door and he darted in, she following close behind.

“All clear.” Jack pronounced minutes later after checking each floor for occupants. “Looks like this Aaron Templeton guy’s not home.”

(Y/N) tucked her gun back into her purse and began wandering through the first floor. “In that case we should be quick. You take the top two floors and I’ll take the bottom two; if you find anything, just holler for me.”

As she suspected, the building was run-down and derelict, with rotting wooden beams and broken furniture littering the floors. The first floor appeared to be untouched, so (Y/N) carefully made her way up the rickety staircase to the second floor and began looking around; it too appeared to be abandoned, and (Y/N) had just finished up when she heard Jack out to her from the floor above.

“I think I found something you might recognize.” Jack gestured to an empty wooden crate resting on the desk near the boarded-up window.

She staggered over small piles of debris to stand beside him, a little surprised at the look of confusion on his face as he stared down at the crate. Following Jack’s lead, (Y/N) looked down and was immediately drawn to the lid of the crate; printed on the wood was a familiar image of a horse surrounded by vines. “The bank robbery; this was the symbol that was etched onto that device we took custody of a few weeks back. Chief Sousa closed the case the other day, said there was a lack of evidence and credible witnesses to justify keeping it open.” She glanced back up at Jack. “You don’t think…?”

“Yeah, I do.” He gestured to a scrap of paper on the desk. “The time and date of the robbery, along with the bank’s street address. It looks like we might’ve just found the home of one of our bank robbers.”

“In that case, we need to take another look at that case _and_ we need someone to re-examine the device.” (Y/N)’s finger traced the etching on the wood and sighed to herself before continuing. “Unfortunately, I have just the man in mind…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Linked below is the Spotify playlist for this fanfiction, and it'll be updated every time I post a new chapter. Enjoy!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

_Los Angeles, California_

Although his off-the-books case had become more convoluted than he’d originally expected, Jack was in unusually good spirits; ever since recruiting (Y/N), he felt like he’d actually made real progress in the investigation of his attempted assassination. At this rate, you’ll be back in the Big Apple in no time, Jack thought to himself with a smile, shoving his hands into his pockets as he continued walking down the sidewalk. Enjoying the brisk mid-morning weather and daydreaming about New York, Jack almost didn’t see the familiar emerald-green ‘46 Chevrolet Fleetmaster Convertible pulling up beside him until its horn blared twice.

“Need a ride, Flyboy?”

Rolling his eyes at (Y/N)’s comment and teasing grin, Jack quickly got into the car and grumbled, “You know, that nickname’s not very accurate; I was in the Navy during the war, not the Air Force.”

“And my reading glasses are bifocals, not _specs_ , so what’s your point?” Three weeks ago, the codebreaker would’ve bristled at the mention of his nickname for her, but it was a sign of their mutual agreement to behave themselves for the sake of the case that she merely quirked her eyebrow at him. Redirecting her eyes back on the road, (Y/N) gestured vaguely to the cardboard box that was seated beside her. “I was able to get the device out of evidence without having to sign for it, but I had to distract Samberly with the promise of a cheeseburger from Ralph’s.”

“We’ll pick one up on the way back to the office.” Jack reached up and took his fedora off, absentmindedly twirling it in his hands as he asked, “So, what did you tell ‘em to get a longer lunch break?”

For some reason, his question made her chuckle. “You’re sure you want to know?” He raised an expectant eyebrow. “I told Chief Sousa I was having ladies’ troubles and it worked like a charm; they don’t expect me back until one o’clock.”

“…Well, that’ll do it, I guess.” Shaking his head, Jack reached forward and began tuning the radio until it landed on an upbeat tune. “All I told Sousa was that I was meeting an old college pal of mine for lunch.” He snorted to himself. “I wish. After last year’s fiasco in New York and the whole Zero Matter thing out here, I’ve had it up to _here_ with Howard Stark; the last thing I wanna do is ask for the guy’s help but we really don’t really have another option.” When he glanced over at his companion, he instantly took notice of the tension in her shoulders and the tightening of her hands on the steering wheel. Thinking that her shift in body language was due to his harsh critique of the inventor, he decided it would be wise to try and backpedal for the sake of the case. “That’s, uh, not to say that he’s not a smart guy or anything, it’s just…well, you know. You guys work together during the war?”

(Y/N) nodded curtly. “Yes, we did.” Just as Jack began to ask another question, she cut him off with a question of her own. “What’s your favorite color?”

“…What?”

“You heard me. If I’m going to continue working on this case then I should probably get to know the man I’ve been sneaking into my apartment every night this week, wouldn’t you say?” (Y/N)’s tone was light, but her body language all but ordered Jack to drop the topic of Howard Stark. Is there _anyone_ in the world Stark hasn’t managed to piss off yet, he silently wondered as the car came to a stop at a red light; turning towards him, the corners of (Y/N)’s mouth curled into a small smile. “C’mon, Flyboy, what is it? Green? Orange? I’ll bet it’s red, since you wear red ties a lot.”

Still a little befuddled by her odd behavior, it took Jack several moments to come up with a reply. “Um, well, I guess it would be blue. Not bright blue, but the color of the ocean. Um…you?”

“Green, definitely green.” (Y/N) shrugged. “Green’s always reminded me of the field behind my grandmother’s house; I’d spend hours out there playing, so I suppose that’s why I like it so much.”

“Where’d you grow up?”

And with that, Jack learned more about his reluctant partner during their thirty-minute-long car ride than in the entire three weeks they’d worked together; most of what they discussed was typical small talk – favorite foods, various hobbies and the like – but her answers painted a very different picture of her life than he’d ever imagined. Whenever he pictured her life growing up, for example (not that he’d thought of the codebreaker very much, of course), he always imagined a quiet, be-speckled little girl with her nose stuck in a massive book, not a mischievous troublemaker who enjoyed climbing trees and playing baseball. Never judge a book by its cover, I guess, Jack thought with an inward snort of amusement as he listened to her story.

“So anyway, there I was at home base, Tommy had just passed third and was gunning it home and the pitcher had just thrown the ball to me. Since Tommy was way bigger than me, I was scared he’d run me over before I could catch the thing so I did what any sane person would’ve done: I slid into the splits to catch the ball and got him out as he tripped over my leg.”

Jack found himself chuckling along with her. “Sounds like a good save to me, but I bet they had something else to say about it.”

“Of course they did, they banned me from playing with them ever again! It only lasted about a week, though; they had a game against another neighborhood team that they didn’t want to lose, so they bought me chocolate ice cream and let me back on the team.” (Y/N) smiled fondly at the memory. “I would’ve told them ‘no’ just to spite them, but they really got me with that ice cream; chocolate’s my absolute weakness no matter what form it’s in.”

“Careful, you better not let information like that get out in the open, Specs, there’s no telling how many neighborhood ball teams’ll come looking for you now.” He grinned and watched with a sense of pride as (Y/N) laughed at his joke. The sound of her laughter combined with the bright smile on her face stirred something in his chest, and Jack quickly realized, to his shock and utter confusion, that he’d _enjoyed_ making her laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walking through the backlot of Howard Stark’s film studio, it was all Jack could do not to outright gawk at the colorful sets and technical equipment being moved or manned; unbeknownst to many, Jack was fond of films and had always been interested in how they were created. During their final confrontation with Whitney Frost in the backlot, he’d been unable to fully appreciate his surroundings but since he didn’t have to worry about Zero Matter or flying cars this time, he fully took advantage of the moment. That is, until he caught sight of the noticeable dampening of (Y/N)’s mood; the codebreaker walked beside him with tense shoulders and a troubled frown on her face, a sharp contrast to all the smiles and laughter she’d been in the car earlier. She must _really_ hate Howard Stark, he thought to himself as he adjusted the tilt of his fedora and contemplated how to phrase his next question.

“So, um, what exactly did-?”

“Well, this is a surprise!” They turned to see the man in question striding towards them, his arms outstretched in welcome. “Chief Thompson, it’s good to see you! How’s everything at my mansion? Is Jarvis treatin’ you right? And who’s your…?” Howard trailed off as he took a closer look at (Y/N), recognition dawning on his face along with a nervous grin. “Oh. Long time no see, (Y/N). How’ve you been? I heard talk that you’d re-joined the SSR a while back.”

The codebreaker’s face was a mask as she stiffly replied, “We’re here because we need your help with a case we’re working on.”

The inventor shrugged good-naturedly. “Sure, anything for my old pals at the SSR.”

“This isn’t an SSR case.” Jack’s grip on the cardboard box containing the device tightened as he glanced around the crowded backlot. “You mind if we take this conversation somewhere more private?”

Howard frowned in confusion but nodded, leading them through the backlot and into a building, where they entered what appeared to be his office. He locked the door behind them and flopped down in his desk chair with an expectant look. “Well, what’s so important that you dragged me away from filming my new picture? I was just about to shoot a scene with Betty Hutton, you know.”

“First, you need to promise you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone, but especially Peggy Carter.”

(Y/N)’s words caused Howard to sigh and run a hand through his short hair. “Peg and I have a history when it comes to hiding things from one another. After what happened in New York with Rogers’ blood, I don’t know if-”

Jack interrupted him. “None of us wanna lie to Carter, Stark, but believe me when I say that it’s important she doesn’t find out just yet.” Howard considered his words before giving them a nod. Leaning against his desk, Jack proceeded to fill him in on the details of the case, from his shooting all the way to the device that was tied to the symbol they’d discovered in the abandoned warehouse. (Y/N) leaned against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest and remained relatively quiet, only interjecting to explain her decoding process; the stony expression on her face remained unchanged as she focused on everything in the room except Howard.

“You said this device melted the door of a bank vault?” Howard asked, examining the metallic device in his hands with great interest, seemingly forgetting about his film and waiting actress. Jack nodded, and the inventor smirked. “Yep, this is definitely one of my Bad Babies.”

“ _What?!_ ” Jack shouted; (Y/N) jumped and immediately dropped her aloof demeanor in surprise, but Howard remained unperturbed. “You’re telling me that one of your stolen inventions was never recovered and you failed to inform the SSR about it?!”

Howard merely shrugged, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankles on the edge of the desk with an easy-going smile. “Relax a little, will you? I never told the SSR about this device for a variety of very good reasons, which include but are not limited to: being wrongfully accused of treason, an overall distrust of federal agencies at the time and because it never truly existed back then.” Jack frowned in confusion. “As you know, I left the country shortly after the SSR began its manhunt for me and while I was gone, I traveled to Europe to track down the inventions that had already been sold off; they included a blueprint for a device very similar to this. I got it back and destroyed it, of course, but I’d wager that someone made a copy of it before I did.”

“You said that the blueprint was _similar_ to that invention, but not completely accurate; what changes were made?” (Y/N) asked, curiosity overtaking her earlier frostiness.

“Well for one thing, it’s been super-powered; my original invention was intended to melt snow off of driveways but someone’s rewired this to do a lot more that make puddles. There’s also a crest or somethin’ etched onto the metal, and everyone knows I don’t mark my inventions with symbols.” He chuckled to himself. “And if it were up to me, they wouldn’t even have my company’s name on them; the quality alone should tell people who they’re buying from.” Jack had to feign a head scratch in order to hide his exasperated eye-roll. “You’re dealing with one hell of a smarty-pants, you two. You _sure_ Michael’s the one who built this?”

(Y/N) clenched her jaw but nodded. “He’s invented his own form of coding without any formal training in the field, so I’d say it’s a safe bet it’s him or someone working alongside him.”

“In that case, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open in case any more Stark Industries rip-offs show up on the radar.”

Taking the device back from Howard, Jack carefully tucked it back into the box and placed his fedora back on his head. “Thanks, but remember, _no one_ can know what we’re investigating, got it?”

“Sure, sure.” At this point, all of Howard’s attention was focused on (Y/N), who had resumed staring at the floor. “It’s been good seein’ you, (Y/N). I didn’t think I ever would after Düsseldorf, you know.”

The codebreaker’s head snapped up and although her mouth was set in anger, there was pain in her (Y/E/C) eyes. “ _Don’t_. You have no right to talk about Düsseldorf, not after what you did.”

Howard gritted his teeth as he took a deep breath. “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tried apologizing for what happened, (Y/N)…”

“And have you ever considered the possibility that maybe I don’t want your half-baked apologies?!” (Y/N) had pushed herself off of the wall and was standing before the inventor, her eyes blazing. “They’re empty words, Howard! They mean absolutely nothing to me!”

“Well, that’s all I can give you!” Howard shouted back. “I can’t give you back what you lost, I can’t give you back Freddie-!”

(Y/N) slapped him hard across the face, and he immediately brought a hand up to the reddened cheek. With tears beginning to form in her eyes, she took a step back from him. “ _Never_ mention his name again.” Giving him a final glare, (Y/N) turned and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her so hard that its frosted pane of glass cracked.

Jack and Howard stood in silence as they stared at the door, until Howard finally cleared his throat. “I’ll see you around, Chief Thompson, I’ve gotta go check on the, um, costumes and things…”

Blurting out an awkward goodbye, Jack hurried out of the office and through the backlot to the parking lot. Just as he suspected, (Y/N) was already in the car and from the looks of it, she’d been crying. Jack had never been very good at comforting crying women, the incident involving Peggy’s old roommate in New York being a prime example of his ineptness in that field, but he figured that the best thing he could do in this particular situation was keep his mouth shut and not ask any of the questions he was dying to have answered. Squaring his shoulders and letting out a deep sigh, he got into the car and they drove away in heavy silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I forgot to get Samberly his cheeseburger.”

Jack looked over at (Y/N) and frowned; she’d been completely silent on the drive back to the SSR, so the hoarseness of her voice was a shock to hear. Her (Y/E/C) eyes were bloodshot and her mouth was set in a hard line as she stared unseeingly out of the windshield. The confident codebreaker was a shell of her former self, and the sight caused something to stir in Jack’s chest. Only later did he realize that the unusual feeling he’d experienced towards her was sympathy.

“Why don’t you go ahead and take the rest of the day off? Ladies troubles, right?” (Y/N) gave him a look of confusion but nodded all the same. “It’ll look a little suspicious to the others, especially Carter, if you’re suddenly feeling better with no explanation. And don’t worry ‘bout Samberly, I’ll go get him his burger after I drop the device off at the lab.” Jack had been expecting her to argue, but after considering his words for a moment she nodded again. “So, um, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Jack grabbed the box containing the device and clambered out of her car but before he could close the door, (Y/N) called out, “Chief Thompson?” He turned around to face her and she studied him for several moments before giving him the smallest of smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Flyboy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Linked below is the Spotify playlist for this fanfiction, and it'll be updated every time I post a new chapter. Enjoy!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven_

_West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles_

Rubbing at her temples in a weak attempt to rid herself of a splitting headache, (Y/N) once again cursed Michael Carter and his codes. They were easily the most challenging codes she’d ever attempted to crack, but a small part of her couldn’t help but admire his skill. A _very_ small part, she thought through gritted teeth as her head throbbed in pain.

Hearing footsteps approaching her desk, (Y/N) reluctantly opened her eyes to see Jack saunter past and drop a folded note into her crowded inbox without a single glance at her. She watched as he entered Daniel’s office before grabbing the note and unfolding it; her eyes skimmed over the message, which she had to read twice to confirm she wasn’t seeing things:

_Take a break from M’s codes, Specs, you look like your brain’s gonna explode._

Glancing up from the note, her eyes immediately found Jack looking at her through the glass window of the office, his eyebrows raised expectantly. She shook her head and struggled to suppress a smile as he rolled his eyes in exasperation. As well-meaning as his note had been, both she and Jack knew that until she decoded another of Michael’s codes, their investigation was virtually on hold. Jack had reached out to some more of his friends in D.C. in order to learn more about Michael’s military background, but the continuation of their investigation rested squarely on (Y/N)’s overly-stressed shoulders. If I keep this up I’m gonna get grey hair before I’m thirty, (Y/N) groaned inwardly as she returned her gaze to the code before her. Before she could resume her work, Peggy entered the bullpen and as she made her way towards her desk, (Y/N) surreptitiously covered the code with her translation journals.

“Can I ask you for a favor, (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) smiled warmly, concealing any signs of fatigue from her friend. “Of course, what can I do for you?”

“The New York branch is a little overwhelmed with decoding old wartime messages for documentation and filing, so Daniel’s offered them our services.” Peggy began thumbing through one of the files she’d set down on the desk. “They’re fairly straightforward codes, so they won’t do anything to aggravate that headache of yours; in fact, they may even serve to relax you.” (Y/N)’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and Peggy’s grin widened at her reaction. “Oh, please, (Y/N), we worked together for years; you don’t think I’ve forgotten how you act when your headaches come on, do you?”

“You’re right, Peg, I really shouldn’t be surprised at this point in our relationship.” Shrugging good-naturedly, (Y/N) helped her friend clear a space on the desk and set up their codebreaking materials. Once Peggy had fetched them each a strong cup of tea, they began their work. Just as the younger woman had predicted, (Y/N) quickly found herself relaxing as she decoded message after message, only pausing in order to sip her lemon and honey tea.

They had been working in comfortable silence for a while when Peggy suddenly spoke. “Good Lord, I haven’t seen this style of code in years! You’re the one who introduced them to me at Bletchley, remember?”

“Hmm?” Dragging her eyes away from her half-finished code, (Y/N)’s lips curved into a smile as she studied the page in Peggy’s hand. “Ah, poem codes! As I recall, you thought it was an archaic code and a waste of time to learn. You still feel the same way about it?”

“Oh, sod off.” Peggy’s withering look was broken by a reluctant grin. “I’ll admit, poem codes are useful but they’re still a pain in the ass to decode and no one outside of Literature students could _possibly_ know enough poems to successfully utilize them.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue but froze as inspiration suddenly struck. Thinking fast, she gathered her translation journals and Michael’s code, whipped off her reading glasses and stood. “I forgot, I’ve got to get these write-ups down to Rose before lunch; I’ll be back in a jiffy, Peg!” With a brief glance in the direction of Daniel’s office, (Y/N) strode out of the bullpen and down the halls, quickly finding herself ducking into a cramped supply closet. She was practically bouncing in excitement by the time Jack squeezed his way into the space and flicked on the small lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. “I’ve done it!”

“What, finally had a mental breakdown? I know we need those codes cracked but you’re gonna run yourself into the ground at the rate you’re going, and-”

Unable to contain herself, (Y/N) reached up and covered his mouth with her hand; his eyes widened in surprise and before he could scowl, (Y/N) removed her hand and exclaimed, “I figured out how Michael’s creating his codes! He’s using his background in Literature to develop his own coding style! Remember, you read in that file the other week that he attended Cambridge before enlisting in the British Armed Forces, majoring in Philosophy and minoring in Literature; he definitely would’ve learned enough there to be able to create new codes.”

Jack’s brow rose and she got the sense that he was impressed by her epiphany. “And this new style, you can figure it out?”

“It’ll still be a challenge but since I think I have an insight into his process now, it shouldn’t take nearly as long as it has been.” With a triumphant grin, (Y/N) gestured to the code in her hand. “How about we decode this one over a turkey and Swiss at the diner tonight?”

“Sounds like a plan. Maybe we can also think of a better meeting place while we’re at it?” Jack’s face suddenly broke out into an amused grin. “I mean, the others might get the wrong idea if they catch us in here. You and me alone in a tiny supply closet…? _Very_ scandalous.”

(Y/N) arched an unimpressed brow. “Is that so?”

“Oh, definitely. It’ll spread all over the office that the new codebreaker’s seduced the innocent Chief and then my reputation’ll be ruined.” His grin widened and (Y/N) rolled her eyes as she worked on extricating herself from the closet. “Hey, defending my virtue’s very important to me, Specs, don’t knock it!”

“Well, in that case…” Standing on her tiptoes and without a second thought, (Y/N) pressed a quick kiss on his neck and pulled away to admire the red lipstick staining his skin and shirt collar; with a smirk of her own, she gazed up at Jack’s stunned face. “Have fun defending that one, Flyboy.”

Before he could respond, she ducked back out of the closet and made her way back to the bullpen, fanning herself with her free hand as she went; for some odd reason, her face had suddenly become uncomfortably warm…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thanks again for the ride, Specs, but I still say I could’ve made it back to Stark’s place okay on my own.”

(Y/N) took her eyes off the empty backroad to shoot the man beside her an amused look. “You sprained your ankle jumping off my fire escape; you and I both know that it’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch if you put more pressure on it than necessary, which would’ve happened if you stood waiting for a taxi. Besides, I feel a little guilty for laughing as hard as I did when you had to hide from Mrs. Espinoza in the juniper bush.”

Jack’s lips curled into a reluctant grin and he pointed a warning finger at her. “You tell anyone ‘bout that and you’re dead, you got it?” His grin widened. “You know, the last time I had to hide in a bush like that was when I was in high school; I was leaving my gal’s house when her old man came home early and to this day, I can’t look at a rose without feeling those damn thorns digging into my back.”

“Well, I’m sure your gal appreciated the gesture all the same, although I would’ve hid my fella in the garden shed if I were her.” She smirked but after feeling his eyes trained on her, she spared another glance at him. “What?”

“Did you date a lot in high school?” He raised his hands in defense when her brow rose in surprise. “Hey, I’m just getting to know my partner a little better, you don’t have to answer or anything…”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “And if I choose not to answer _I’m sure_ you’ll just drop the subject forever, huh?” Out of the corner of her eye, Jack shrugged again and she sighed in exasperation. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, Flyboy, but no, I didn’t date in high school. Even if my father hadn’t forbidden me from dating and I wasn’t overwhelmed with schoolwork, I doubt any of the fellas at my school were interested in me that way and to be frank, I wasn’t very interested in them, either.”

“Well, any guy would-wait, why’s that sign look so familiar?”

Pulling to the side of the road, (Y/N) squinted to make out the sign in the faint glow of her headlights. “‘Fieldman Family Orangery, Next Left.’ I think it’s just a-” Her eyes suddenly widened in recognition. “Wait. Michael’s personnel file had an _Adam_ Fieldman listed as a roommate from Cambridge. You don’t really think…?”

Jack had already retrieved her briefcase from the back seat and withdrawn the message she’d decoded over dinner. “You tell me.” Written in her barely-legible handwriting was ‘ _FFO-Lab/Dist_.’ “C’mon, at best we get more intel on whatever the hell Michael and his people are doing and at worst, we break into some poor geezer’s orangery by mistake.”

“Maybe we should wait for another day…?”

“It’s a Friday night, so there’s bound to be nobody hanging around and the moon’s out, which’ll provide us with some natural light. All perfect conditions for a little snooping around.”

Ignoring the feeling of foreboding in the pit of her stomach, (Y/N) switched off the headlights and slowly drove closer to the orangery; endless rows of orange trees ringed a sizable factory building and off to the side was a lot filled with a dozen large delivery trucks. She parked the car behind the trucks and reached into her purse for her gun and pen. “You stay here, I’ll take a quick look around and-”

“Wait, what the hell are you talking about?” It was Jack’s turn to look apprehensive. “You’re not going in there alone.”

Once again sighing in exasperation, (Y/N) gestured to Jack’s ankle. “It’s a little difficult to snoop around when you can’t even walk, Flyboy, wouldn’t you say? I’m a fully trained field agent so I’ll be more than fine by myself in there. Okay?”

With his arms crossed over his chest, Jack’s hardened blue eyes bored into hers and she stared right back, raising a single challenging brow. After several moments, he turned away and heaved a sigh. “Okay, fine, I won’t go in.” When she made no move to leave the car, he threw up his hands in exasperation and gave her a look. “I _promise_ , I’ll be a good boy and stay in the car! Happy?”

“I suppose so.” Without waiting for a reply, (Y/N) opened the car door and quietly stepped out.

Instead of arguing with her some more, Jack leaned forward and caught her arm before she could move, his hand wrapping firmly around her bare wrist; it might’ve been her imagination, but she could’ve sworn that her skin flushed at the contact. “And what’re you gonna do with a pen, Specs, write on ‘em?”

“You’d be surprised.” She gave him a secretive smile and withdrew her arm from his grasp before closing the car door and sneaking her way towards the closed factory, tucking the seemingly innocent pen into her pocket as she went.

Now _this_ takes me back, (Y/N) thought to herself a handful of minutes later when she went about picking the lock of one of the side doors; she’d learned the skill shortly after joining up with the Howling Commandos and would never forget how many of her hairpins had been destroyed during her practice sessions with the soldiers. I’m pretty sure Barnes promised he’d buy me some more once the war was over, she recalled with a twinge of sadness as she remembered the easy-going Sergeant, but the feeling was quickly replaced with elation when the door unlocked with a faint _click._

Nudging the door open with the toe of her shoe, (Y/N) raised her gun and entered what appeared to be a large packaging room; stacks of wooden crates formed long rows and in the faint light of the moon streaming through the skylights, she could barely make out an open doorway. Just as she was about to continue into the room, the sudden sound of footsteps grew increasingly louder and caused her to spring into action; moving as quietly as she could, (Y/N) hurried down the left-hand row and after spotting a gap in between two crates, hurriedly ducked into it and took a deep breath. The heavy footsteps grew louder before stopping altogether.

“There’s nothin’ here, wise-ass! I told you you was hearin’ things!”

“Yeah, yeah, just get your ass back here and deal, Jerry, I ain’t got all night to wait for you!” Another masculine voice called from the opposite end of the room. “And bring some more smokes while you’re at it!”

“Hey, you better not be lookin’ at my cards…!” Jerry’s voice faded as he hurried back to the opposite end of the room.

(Y/N) took a moment to let out the breath she’d been holding before poking her head out of her hiding spot to check if the coast was truly clear. Satisfied, she emerged and continued moving silently through the room and towards the open doorway; they must be security guards for the company, she reasoned as she flattened herself against the outstretch of wall behind the propped-open door, it doesn’t necessarily mean this place is connected to our case.

The moment the thought of sneaking back to her car to lay into Jack for his paranoia crossed her mind, (Y/N)’s attention was drawn to the muffled sound of voices through the open doorway. Ducking out of her hiding place, she crept into the next room and instantly spotted the light shining through the cracked-open door to her left; being mindful of her footsteps, she slowly moved closer to the doorway and flattened herself against the wall before finally allowing herself to listen to the voices.

“Listen, I’m okay with sending out another shipment in the next few weeks but we need to be more careful, the SSR-”

“-Hasn’t got a single clue about what it is or who invented it. My source inside the agency told me that their Chief has officially closed the case and that their only piece of evidence is locked away in their archives.”

The first man sighed in frustration. “All right, all right, but remind your hired goons not to leave another one behind at the next hit or that’ll have every agency in town on our tail. And tell the boss-”

“Tell him what? That you’re unsatisfied with your deal? I’m sure he’d love to-”

“N-no! No, no, I only meant…he needs to remember Chief Thompson…”

With a chuckle, the second man replied, “Concerned, are we? How touching. Rest assured, the boss hasn’t forgotten about _that_ particular problem. Jack Thompson will soon be taken care of the same way he’s already taken care of that careless Templeton…”

Although she felt the handle of the gun slip out of her grasp, (Y/N) didn’t fully register it until the sound of the gun hitting the stone floor echoed throughout the room. Her heart jumped into her throat as she acted on pure instinct; she darted behind a stack of crates stamped with a vaguely-familiar symbol and fumbled with her jacket pocket, from which she finally withdrew her compact mirror. Holding it in front of her and adjusting its angle, (Y/N) watched as the door swung open and the two men hurried out. Because of the glare on her mirror, she was unable to make out any of their features and before she could get a closer look, the men caught sight of her gun on the floor and immediately ran back into the room; a moment later, a shrill alarm began blaring throughout the orangery.

“Shit.” She snapped her mirror closed and withdrew her pen from her pocket while she listened to the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching. Six men armed with pistols that just branched out into two groups, she deduced, most likely more on the way so there’s only one way to play this. After taking a quick peek around the crates and deep bolstering breath, she clicked down on the top of the pen and tossed it in the direction of the three armed men, flattening herself against the crates as the pen released a small-scale explosion that knocked out all three men.

As expected, the other three men were drawn to the commotion and (Y/N) used their reaction to her advantage; once they ran past her hiding spot, she leapt out and threw her compact mirror at the back of one of the men’s head, the force of it knocking him clear to the floor. Charging the two remaining men, she punched one roundly in the face and kneed him in the groin, using his unbalance to roughly shove him head-first into a stack of crates. The second man fired his gun at her and she ducked down just in time to avoid the bullet; she thrust a foot out and kicked his shin with the sharp heel of her shoe, jumping to her feet as yelled in pain and clutched his leg. She gave him a quick sidekick to the head and watched as he slumped to the ground, unconscious. The first man she’d thrown her compact at staggered to his feet, only to fall back down when (Y/N) grabbed an empty crate and slammed it upside his head.

Wasting no time, she dropped the crate, sprinted out of the room and back into the packaging room, the thought of escape being the only thing on her mind. Just as her eyes fell on the door she’d entered the orangery through, something large and solid slammed into her and sent her flying into the stack of crates to her left. She landed harshly onto the floor amid the broken wood and groaned in pain as she struggled to her feet, but a hard hit to her face sent her sprawling back down and her eyes instinctively squeezed shut.

“You’re one tough cookie, ya know?” The man standing over her let out an impressed whistle, and she recognized it as the voice of Jerry, one of the poker-playing guards from earlier. She also recognized the unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded and was silently thankful she’d kept her eyes closed. “Shame it’s gotta end this way.”

“Yeah, you took the words right outta my mouth.” (Y/N)’s eyes flew open just in time to watch as Jack Thompson knocked the man out with a single punch; the man fell to the ground in a heap and Jack immediately limped over to help her stand. “C’mon, we’ve gotta go, I already took care of the other guards but more’ll be coming…” They ran as quickly as their injuries would allow and since they were in such a hurry, (Y/N) didn’t complain when Jack dove into the driver’s seat and gunned it down the road. “That…that was the definition of a SNAFU.…”

(Y/N) struggled to control her erratic breathing and her shock was beginning to wear off, only to be replaced by white-hot anger. “I thought I told you to stay in the car!”

“Seriously? I just saved your ass from getting shot and you wanna argue about that _now_?”

“You didn’t trust that I could gather intel on my own, did you? That’s why you went in after promising you wouldn’t!”

“No, I went in after you ‘cause I heard a _goddamn_ _bomb_ go off and thought you were in trouble! And of course I trust you to get intel on your own, you’re an agent for crying out loud!”

She let out a heartless laugh at that. “This coming from the man who recently called me a weak, emotional liability!” Jack’s head turned sharply to face her and his dumbfounded expression only served to spur on her anger. “Face it, Jack Thompson, you don’t give a shit about our partnership, _you_ just wanted to collect the intel by yourself for _your_ investigation, and I-!” As she shifted in her seat, a white-hot pain erupted in her left leg and she couldn’t suppress the loud gasp of pain as her eyes squeezed shut. “Argh!”

“What’s wro-? Oh _shit_ …” Jack’s abrupt shift in tone caused her to blink her eyes open and follow his horrified gaze to the expanding bloodstain on her thigh. “How deep’s that wound?” She didn’t answer, as the sight of her own blood was already causing her head to loll and her vision to darken. “Specs? (Y/N)! Hey hey hey, (Y/N), stay awake, you hear me? C’mon, keep your eyes open!” Her eyes were drifting closed, and the last thing she clearly remembered before succumbing to the darkness was the newfound pressure on her leg and the sound of her name being called over and over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Linked below is the Spotify playlist for this fanfiction, and it'll be updated every time I post a new chapter. Enjoy!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight_

_Stark Mansion, Los Angeles_

The skies surrounding Howard Stark’s mansion were beginning to lighten when Jack finally returned from his walk, his bloodstained hands shoved deep into his pockets and his hair beyond rumpled from angrily running his fingers through it. He’d spent the better part of the night berating himself, both for knowingly sending (Y/N) into the orangery without backup and for the hurtful words he’d said to her all those weeks ago, and he’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t also worried out of his mind for the injured and unconscious codebreaker inside the mansion.

He’d driven them directly to Stark’s mansion at breakneck speed, where the Jarvises had helped him carry (Y/N)’s limp form into one of the spare bedrooms and he watched as the butler stitched the large cut on her thigh closed; Ana had attempted to coax Jack into sitting so she could wrap his sprained ankle but he refused, opting to stand beside the bed and watch her husband work. His jaw would tightly clench each time the codebreaker flinched or whimpered in her sleep and he didn’t relax until Jarvis finished securing the bandage around her leg. With her wound properly treated, (Y/N)’s forehead smoothed out and she seemed to fall into a more peaceful slumber.

_“Miss (Y/L/N) will be fine after a good night’s sleep.” Jarvis stood and wiped his bloody hands on a towel, an unusually firm look on his face as he removed his reading glasses. “Now, Chief Thompson, I believe an explanation is in order.”_

Against his better judgement, Jack told the Jarvises everything about their secret case, from the file and their chilling discovery pertaining to Michael Carter to their spontaneous investigation into the orangery; to their credit, they promised not to breathe a word of it to Peggy or the SSR, but Jack could see that his story had disturbed them. It was then he decided to go for a walk around the vast estate to clear his head and get away from their prying eyes.

“And how’d that work out for you, you jackass?” He muttered under his breath as he walked. Rounding the corner of Stark’s pool house, Jack’s eyes immediately fell on the familiar emerald-green car parked in the driveway and a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. He should’ve waited for another night to infiltrate the orangery, but he was so wrapped-up in the case that he’d ignored (Y/N)’s initial reservations. But what bothered him more was that she believed he didn’t care at all about her well-being or their partnership. Looking back on their past interactions, though, it was painfully easy to see why she’d believe that.

“I see you’ve returned from your walk, Chief Thompson!” Ana looked up from her book with a smile as Jack limped into the kitchen, the pain in his ankle having become more prominent than ever. “Are you feeling better?”

Jack ignored her question. “Is Agent (Y/L/N) awake yet?”

“No, not yet; Edwin is sitting with her now.” Ana stood and gestured to the vacant chair across from her. “Sit, and I’ll wrap your ankle for you.”

Jack opened his mouth to refuse but the stern glint in her eye told him not to argue with the petite woman. He sat, but when she gathered the supplies and prepared to kneel, he held up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay, I’ll do it myself.” Ana raised a skeptical eyebrow but allowed him to take the supplies from her, sitting across from him at the table as he went about wrapping his ankle. “I learned how to do it in the Navy; most of the guys sprained their ankles running to their battle stations, so the medics taught us how to treat ‘em ourselves.”

“Very wise of them. Working for Mr. Stark one must be prepared for anything, so I took several nursing classes; just last year, I treated the ankle Mr. Stark sprained sneaking out of Barbara Stanwyck’s home and the wrist Edwin sprained attempting to recapture Bernard Stark.” Jack frowned in confusion. “He’s a pink flamingo.”

“Ah.”

Ana’s brow furrowed as her eyes focused on his neck. “You’re bleeding! Do you need a bandage for that?”

Jack’s hand shot up to where she was looking but all he felt was smooth skin; it was when he brought his hand back down and examined his stained fingers that he realized it was red lipstick on his neck, not blood. The memory of (Y/N) standing on her tiptoes and planting a kiss on his neck before flashing him a teasing grin filled his mind and the guilt he was feeling only intensified. “No, it’s fine, it’s just…it’s fine. Thank you.”

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, Ana reading her book as Jack finished wrapping his ankle as quickly as he could. Once he finished, he put his sock and shoe back on and went to the sink to finally scrub the dried blood off of his hands. As he watched the pink-tinted water wash down the drain, he found himself blurting out, “Have you ever, um…you ever say something stupid to someone before? Like, _really_ stupid?”

“Me? Oh, of course!” He turned, wiping his hands on a dishtowel; Ana had set down her book and was tracing the lettering with her fingers. “We are all flawed creatures, so it is only natural that we say things to others without fully thinking of the ramifications of our words.”

Nodding, Jack pressed his lips together and hesitated a moment before continuing. “And how have you…well, taken those words back?”

Ana smiled patiently up at him. “Once words are spoken, Chief Thompson, there’s no taking them back. But a heartfelt apology can always help to lessen the pain that they have caused.”

Based on the look she was giving him, Jack had a sneaking suspicion Ana knew exactly what he was talking about. Thankfully, though, whatever she was about to say was interrupted by Jarvis entering the kitchen with a wide grin on his face. “Miss (Y/L/N) is awake and appears to be in good health. She’s asked to speak with you, actually.”

“Thanks, Jarvis.” Jack clapped the butler on the shoulder before hurrying his way down the hallway to the guest room, pausing only a moment to run a nervous hand through his hair before knocking on the door.

“Come in.” He opened the door and was met with the sight of (Y/N) sitting upright in bed, relaxing against a mound of pillows and pressing an ice pack against her slightly-swollen cheek; the corner of her mouth twitched when their gazes met, but her (Y/E/C) eyes were caged and watchful as he moved to sit in the chair at her bedside. “Jarvis just gave me a clean bill of health and said my stitches look okay. He was worried and thought that I fainted because I lost too much blood so I had to explain to him that…well, I’m not exactly the biggest fan of gore. Overall, though, he’s a model caregiver; I’ve always said that if he didn’t become a butler, he would’ve been a great doctor.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, he and Ana could open their own practice together.” (Y/N) stared down at her lap and Jack nervously bit his lip; before he could lose his nerve, he leaned forward in his chair and spoke. “(Y/N), I’m sorry.” Her head shot up and the look of surprise in her eyes urged him to continue. “I should’ve listened to you about looking into the orangery another day, that way we could’ve been better prepared and you wouldn’t have gotten injured, but what I’m really sorry for is the way I’ve spoken and acted towards you over the past few weeks. You didn’t do anything to deserve all that and…and I should’ve been a better partner to you. I get it if you don’t wanna work this case anymore, and-”

(Y/N)’s free hand shot out and grabbed one of his, the action succeeding in shutting him up; he met her gaze once again and was stunned to see that she too seemed nervous. “I haven’t exactly been fair to you either. What I said in the car…I didn’t mean it. If you didn’t care about our partnership, then you wouldn’t have acted the way you did when you got me here last night.” Jack frowned in confusion and (Y/N) gave him a small smile. “Jarvis told me that you didn’t leave my bedside when he stitched me up, not even once, and he said that you flat-out refused to have your ankle treated until after I was taken care of.”

“Jarvis talks too much.”

“Well, I’m glad he told me, and…” She looked down at their clasped hands before looking back up at him, a sincere gleam in her eyes. “…and I’m sorry too, Jack, for everything.”

They shared a smile, a genuine smile, and after a moment they both seemed to realize that they were still holding hands; (Y/N) pulled hers back to rest on her bedcovers and Jack’s quickly shot up to smooth back his hair, already feeling his face heat up in embarrassment as the image of her smiling face filled his mind. To clear the tension of the room, he chuckled and casually remarked, “You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you call me by my actual name and not ‘Flyboy’.”

“I could say the same thing but I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you, _Flyboy_.” (Y/N) smirked as he rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Now, how about we go through the intel I gathered over some breakfast?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, Specs, let me see if I got it all straight,” Jack took a large bite of his blueberry muffin and a swig of black coffee before continuing. “The orangery’s being used to manufacture and distribute those vault-melting devices, they have a shipment that’s supposed to go out in the next few weeks, they bumped off Templeton for leaving a device behind at the crime scene and Michael’s goons are planning on ‘taking care of me’ next? Not much to worry ‘bout there since they seem to make pretty shit assassins, but the first few parts we can work with.”

(Y/N) nodded, setting her teacup down on its saucer and glancing down at the pad of paper filled with her messy scribbles. “I think that the first man I heard speak, the one worried about the SSR discovering their operation, could’ve been Adam Fieldman. It was dark but I may be able to identify him once we get ahold of his photograph.” She glanced up at him over the rims of her reading glasses. “We should definitely focus on him; based on the way he spoke, he might be an easy one to crack during an interrogation.”

Jack shrugged at her suggestion. “Agreed, but it’s not like the two of us can raid the place and bring him into the SSR for questioning; if we do that then everyone, including Carter, is gonna find out exactly what we’ve been up to. Oh, and are we just gonna breeze past the fact that you’ve been carrying a pen-bomb in your purse this whole time and you didn’t tell anyone about it?”

Ana, who had just entered the kitchen, let out a laugh. “Miss (Y/L/N) has many tricks up her sleeve, does she not? I must leave for my life-drawing class now, so I’ll see you all later!”

“Ah, goodbye darling!”

Ignoring the passionate goodbye kiss the husband and wife were sharing mere feet away, Jack raised an eyebrow at the codebreaker. “That thing wasn’t SSR tech, was it?”

“I may or may not have saved it from my old OSS days during the war.” (Y/N) gave him a mischievous grin. “I always knew it would come in handy someday.”

“Apparently.” Draining the last drops of coffee from his cup, Jack stood and took his dishes over to the sink where Jarvis had resumed cleaning up. “You got any ideas on what we should do, Jarvis?”

“Well, for one, I believe you should wash your own dishes, as you are neither my employer nor a severely injured guest.” Jarvis replied dryly before going over to where (Y/N) was seated at the table. “Are you finished with your breakfast, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

(Y/N) smiled up at the butler as she leaned back in her chair. “Thank you, Jarvis, it was delicious but I can wash my own-”

“You must stay off your feet for the time being, Miss (Y/L/N), or else your stitches may loosen. And absolutely no arguing.” Jarvis added sternly, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes but complied as he collected her dishes. “As for your current conundrum, Chief Thompson, it could easily be solved by simply telling Miss Carter exactly what you’re up to.”

Sighing, Jack looked up from the soapy water and exchanged a look with (Y/N) before meeting the butler’s hard gaze. “We told you, Jarvis, Carter can’t know about our investigation just yet.”

(Y/N) nodded in agreement, a sympathetic expression on her face as Jarvis turned to her. “He’s right, Jarvis. I know how badly her brother’s death affected her; if we tell Peg that Michael faked his death and spent the last few years committing war crimes but somehow end up being wrong about it, it’ll crush her.” The codebreaker nervously tugged at the sleeve of her robe and let out a breath. “And if we end up being right…well, at least we’ll have some actual proof to go along with our word.”

“…I still don’t feel entirely comfortable keeping something this momentous from Miss Carter, but I suppose that you’re correct about needing proof.” All of the sudden, Jarvis’ drawn face brightened. “You could always ask the Los Angeles police force for their aid!”

“The L.A.P.D.? I’ve got a lot of connections, pal, but I don’t have any in the…” Jack whirled around and grinned as the distant memory of an enthusiastic young officer handing (Y/N) his card all those weeks ago suddenly came to the forefront of his mind. “It looks like we’ve gotta pay a visit to that rookie cop friend of yours, Specs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Linked below is the Spotify playlist for this fanfiction, and it'll be updated every time I post a new chapter. Enjoy!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine_

_Los Angeles, California_

“Ooo turn it up, this is one of my favorites! _Oh, Johnny, oh Johnny, how you can love! Oh Johnny, oh Johnny, Heaven’s above…!_ ”

“Ah, geez, not again…”

“ _You make my sad heart jump with joy, and when you’re near I just can’t sit still a minute…!_ ”

“You know you’re crazy, right?”

“ _I’m so, oh, Johnny, oh Johnny, please tell me dear, what makes me love you so?_ ”

“Yep, definitely crazy.”

“ _You’re not handsome, it’s true but when I look at you I just, oh, Johnny, oh Johnny, oh…!_ ” With a bright smile on her face, (Y/N) began humming along to the lively tune and tapping her fingers on her steering wheel; her smile only widened when she glanced over and caught the exasperated look on Jack’s face. “What? I love the Andrews Sisters!”

Jack rubbed his face tiredly, but (Y/N) could see that he was having a difficult time repressing his grin. “I know, you sing along to _every single one_ of their songs whenever they come on the radio. Seriously, I’m gonna have to call up every radio network in the city and get ‘em to stop playing the Andrews Sisters just so I can get at least a little break from the gals!”

Rolling her eyes at his dramatics, (Y/N) returned her gaze to the road. “Well, you don’t have a car and since you refuse to borrow one of Howard’s, it looks like you’re stuck riding with me, my music _and_ my singing. In other words, you’d better get used it, Flyboy.”

For the duration of the car ride, they continued to debate about their favorite and least favorite singers and groups; they reached the police precinct before anymore Andrews Sisters songs could play, much to (Y/N)’s disappointment and Jack’s elation. They had arranged to meet Officer Henry Zhang to discuss the result of the L.A.P.D.’s search of Fieldman Family Orangery; since they had no probable cause to search the orangery, Officer Zhang had suggested they phone-in an anonymous tip about a suspected breach in fire safety protocol. That way, the L.A.P.D. – but more importantly, Officer Zhang – would be free to search the premises for any sign of the strange devices meant for shipment. Fingers crossed that the whole thing wasn’t a bust, (Y/N) thought to herself as she parked and switched off the engine before getting out of the car.

“You know, Specs, you’re a pretty decent singer, even if you only ever sing the Andrews Sisters.” Jack remarked on their way up the steps that led to the precinct; (Y/N) snorted in amusement and he raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that you’re the first person to actually compliment – well, _half_ compliment – my singing; when I first began working with the Howling Commandos, Dum Dum Dugan used to say that my ‘goddamn caterwauling’ could deafen the entire German army if properly weaponized. As I recall, the other guys got a good laugh out of that one.”

Jack scoffed. “Dugan’s hearing must’ve been damaged from all those ‘ _Wa-Hoo_ ’s’ he shouted in the war.” She laughed loudly at that; the large man’s deafening war cry was definitely an acquired taste, so much so that during her first couple of months with the Howlies, she used to stuff small pieces of wax into her ears whenever she went on missions with them. They reached the doors of the precinct and Jack was quick to hold the door open for her. “And for your information, that was a _full_ complement I just gave you. You’ve got a really nice singing voice, Specs.”

His unexpectedly kind words combined with his trademark lopsided grin caused (Y/N)’s heart to jolt in her chest and try as she might, it was impossible to keep the growing smile off her face as they entered the building. Once they had checked in with the officer stationed at the front desk they made their way downstairs to Officer Zhang’s brand-new office, which turned out to be the building’s boiler room but with a small desk crammed into the corner.

“Sorry it’s such a tight squeeze in here, this was the only empty room the precinct had.” Henry winced as Jack bumped his elbow hard against the boiler and (Y/N) removed her hat to prevent it from being crushed against the pipes beside her head. The young officer’s frown quickly shifted into an excitement-filled smile. “But I’m the youngest officer to ever get their own office in this precinct, so that’s a plus! Did you guys want anythin’ to eat or drink? I think I’ve got-”

“We’re good, Zhang, but thanks for the offer.” Jack abruptly interrupted as he eyed the boiler beside him that had just made an ominous noise.

(Y/N) smiled patiently at Henry while surreptitiously elbowing Jack in the ribs for his rudeness. “How did everything go yesterday at the orangery? Did you find any evidence that the business is a front for weapons manufacturing?”

Henry shook his head, reaching over his desk and handing her a file; after pausing a moment to slip on her reading glasses, she opened it and began scanning its contents with Jack peering over her shoulder. “You were right, it looked like they packed up shop after your run-in with ‘em last week. I took a few photographs of the place for you guys to look over, though; since you saw it before, you might be able to spot somethin’ I didn’t.”

“The stunt we pulled must’ve really shaken ‘em if they went through all the trouble to pack up and relocate their entire operation.” Jack let out a frustrated sigh. “I hate it when criminals think fast. Any sign of Adam Fieldman?”

“Nope, his old man said he left town on business the other night but couldn’t say where; since you told me to be discrete I didn’t press him for details but he sounded like he was tellin’ the truth.” He gestured to the file (Y/N) was still examining. “I also included anything the L.A.P.D. has on Fieldman’s background, but it’s not much. I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more to help you guys…”

Hearing the normally boisterous officer sound so downtrodden caused (Y/N)’s heart to lurch; despite how cramped the room was, she managed to reach a hand out to clasp one of his. “You’ve done a great job, Officer Zhang, we couldn’t have asked for anyone better to help us out.” She elbowed Jack again as she gave Henry an encouraging smile. “Isn’t that right, Chief Thompson?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, you’ve really helped us out, kid.”

Henry’s face reddened at their praise, and (Y/N) had to stifle a giggle as he leisurely leaned back in his chair in an attempt to appear nonchalant. “Well, if you two ever need anythin’ else you know where to find me.”

They bid the young officer goodbye and as they left the precinct, Jack tilted his fedora on his head and grumbled, “I think that elbow of yours might’ve punctured a kidney.”

“A miraculous feat, considering your kidneys are near your backbone and not your hip.” (Y/N) jokingly retorted, carefully pinning her hat back onto her hair and tucking her reading glasses into her purse as they walked back down the steps to the sidewalk. “Henry didn’t give us much but it’s a lot more than what we had before; that counts as a win in my books.”

Jack shrugged. “I guess so, but have you noticed that our secret investigation isn’t much of a secret anymore? I mean, Stark knows about it, the Jarvises know about it and now this kid’s in on it; who’s next, Samberly? I-son of a bitch!”

Without warning, Jack ripped the file from her hand and disappeared around the corner of the building; before she could move or speak, she heard a familiar voice calling her name and she turned to see Daniel Sousa limping towards her. Her heart hammering in her chest, (Y/N) raised a hand in greeting and silently prayed that he hadn’t seen Jack with her. “Hey there, Chief Sousa! Are you enjoying your lunch break?”

“Not exactly, I had to finish up some paperwork on a joint case and deliver it to this precinct’s Captain.” Daniel gestured to the building with the hand holding his briefcase. “I thought I recognized your car when I pulled up. What’re you doing in this part of town?”

She gave him a tight smile and tried her hardest to stop her hands from nervously fidgeting. “I just had lunch at the diner around the corner. If you’re looking for something to eat later, I’d definitely recommend the chicken noodle soup.”

“I’ll be sure to give it a try,” The chief’s grin faded a little as he examined the steps leading up to the precinct with obvious apprehension. “If I survive these steps, that is.”

“Well, um, would you like some help getting up?”

“So, Agent, you’re presuming that since I’m handicapped I automatically need help doing things?”

(Y/N) felt the color leave her face and all thoughts of concealing Jack’s presence flew out of her mind as she hastily replied, “O-of course not, Chief, I just-”

Her rambling was interrupted by Daniel’s chuckle. “Relax, (Y/L/N), I was only messing with you; I lost my _leg_ during the war, not my sense of humor! And to answer your question, yes, a little help would be appreciated. I don’t have any trouble getting down steps with this thing, but going up? It’s a genuine pain in the ass.”

“Okay, then.” (Y/N) slipped her arm into the crook of Daniel’s before they began making their slow trek up the steps, the clicking of his metal crutch on the stone filling the silence. “Do you mind if I ask you-?”

“-How I lost it?” Daniel finished the question and she sheepishly nodded. “Well, I was a reconnaissance scout in the 28th Infantry and during the Siege of Bastogne, a few of us scouts were pinned down by enemy fire. I got hit in the leg by some shrapnel and by the time the others got me to a medic, there was no saving it.”

(Y/N) nodded again. “I’ve heard stories about that battle. You’re one of the lucky ones, you know.”

That made Daniel grin. “Oh, I know. Peggy never lets me forget it. Somedays it doesn’t feel like it – like when I have to navigate some tricky steps or when Thompson takes one too many jabs at my leg – but when I remember that everything that’s happened to me in the past has led me to her, well…it makes things a little bit easier.” They finally reached the top of the steps and (Y/N) released his arms once she was sure he was steady. “Thank you for the help, but do you think you can keep this under wraps for me? The last thing I want is Thompson to make some more cracks about us in the office…”

“Of course.” Although she had kept her gaze on Daniel the entire time, (Y/N) knew that Jack had seen and possibly heard everything that had transpired; good, she thought to herself, he deserves to hear exactly how his careless words can affect others. They’d forgiven one other for the things they’d said out of anger, true, but a small part of her was reluctant to forgive the hurtful jab that had only served to remind her of her traumatic past. “Well, I should start heading back to the office. I’ll see you later, Chief Sousa.”

She turned to head back down the steps but halted when Daniel called her name once again. When she turned back around, he had an awkward expression on his face. “I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to you alone since you re-joined the SSR but since you’re here now…Peggy told me a little about what you went through during the war and what happened to…well, I just wanted to offer you my condolences.”

“T-thank you, Chief.” (Y/N) gave him what she hoped had been a smile of gratitude before turning on her heel and hurrying back down the steps, ignoring the twinge of pain her quick movements brought the almost-healed wound beneath her skirt. By the time she reached the car, Jack had already gotten in and based on the clouded expression on his face, he’d heard everything they’d said on the steps. I can’t deal with this right now, she sighed inwardly but got into the driver’s seat with an overly-cheerful grin. “Ready to go, Flyboy?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, (Y/N) and Jack sat in the cozy living room of Stark’s mansion and worked on the case, Jack lounging on a sofa as he read through the files Henry had provided them and (Y/N) sitting cross-legged on the floor as she flicked through her translation journals. At the other end of the room were Edwin and Ana, entirely focused on their Benny Goodman radio program as they sat together on another sofa.

The familiar strains of music helped (Y/N) relax and after a while, she noticed that the tension between her and Jack seemed to have disappeared altogether. The silence during the ride back to the office and to Howard’s mansion had been incredibly awkward, and (Y/N) knew it had been because they both were thinking about her and Daniel’s exchange. I’m not going to discuss it unless he brings it up first, (Y/N) thought firmly as she pushed her reading glasses back up the bridge of her nose, we’ve only just moved past our differences and something that touchy might send us right back to square one.

“Another excellent program by Mr. Goodman!” Ana’s exclamation brought (Y/N) out of her silent rumination and she looked up from her work just as the couple stood and yawned. “Well, goodnight Miss (Y/L/N), Chief Thompson.”

“Yes, and try not to make too much noise; tomorrow is silver-polishing day.”

Jack mumbled distractedly, his eyes still trained on the files, so (Y/N) gave the tired couple a small wave. “Goodnight.” Once she heard the faint sound of their bedroom door being closed, she fell sideways with a small groan and rolled so that she was laying on her back. “I think I’m starting to hate codebreaking.”

She could hear Jack’s smirk in his voice as he replied, “I take it Michael’s got you stumped again?”

“…Maybe. I’m sure I’ll have better luck if I look at this tomorrow.” She rolled to her side and rested her head in her hand to look at him. “Have you had any luck with those files?”

“Not really, I think I’m in the same boat as you right now. I’ll give Agent Cabrera a ring tomorrow morning and see if he can’t dig up anything more on Fieldman in the New York files; it’s a long shot, but our office has a bigger collection of files than the West Coast SSR does so something might show up.” Snapping the file closed and tossing it onto the ground, he sat up on the couch and stretched out his arms. “You know, back in New York, Sousa and I would go out drinking if we ever got stuck on a case. We’d put the case out of our minds and relax so that when we took another crack at it, it would be with a fresh perspective.”

“As great as that sounds, Chief Sousa asked us to come in early tomorrow to help catalogue the records room; that means no drinking tonight, Flyboy.”

Jack let out a frustrated sigh. “Sousa’s turned into a real stick in the mud since moving out here.” They began silently putting loose papers back into their files and just as (Y/N) finished packing up her briefcase, Jack cleared his throat to get her attention. “I remember Carter mentioning the other week that you solve easy codes to relax and unwind so I was thinking…well, if you ever need a break from Michael’s codes, you could always teach me a little. About codebreaking, I mean.”

Taken aback by his words, (Y/N) turned to face him. “You want to learn about codebreaking? You, Lieutenant Junior Grade Thompson, want _me_ to teach _you_ about codes?”

“You don’t have to sound so goddamn surprised about it.” Before he turned away from her, (Y/N) caught a glimpse of the look of annoyance and hurt on his face, and she quickly realized she’d inadvertently touched a nerve with her teasing. “Just forget I said anything, okay?”

“Thompson, wait-”

“I said forget it.”

“But I didn’t-”

He whirled around to face her again and the next few sentences seemed to explode out of him. “You know, everyone thinks that I’m just this big dumb war hero, that all I’ll ever be is some fat-head bully with a Navy Cross, and I’m getting sick of it!

“Jack, I didn’t mean to-”

“They all think that I’m this guy that I _never_ was! They expect me to act a certain way, to be a soldier always and forever without thinking about what _I_ want!” Breathing hard through his clenched teeth, Jack’s eyes searched her face and after a moment, his tense shoulders sagged and his blue eyes lowered. “And…it’s getting _harder_ and _harder_ to live with the shit man I’ve become because of it.”

The tension in the air was thick as they both stood absolutely still, Jack staring intently at the carpeted ground and (Y/N) studied her clasped hands. Being confronted by his past words and actions earlier that day had obviously caused Jack to feel guilt, something that was also gnawing at (Y/N); since the moment she’d met him, she had a very specific and narrow idea of who he was that had been based entirely on her past experiences with men in power and the opinions of others, but now it was clear to see that she’d unfairly and prematurely misjudged the man before her. Along with the rest of the world, it seems, she thought to herself with a twinge of sadness and shame.

(Y/N) glanced up and, after a moment’s hesitation, reached forward and rested a gentle hand on Jack’s forearm. His gaze quickly rose to meet hers and an understanding seemed to pass between them as Jack’s eyes softened; (Y/N) didn’t realize she was softly smiling until she spoke. “We’ll start with the Caesar Shift code and go from there.” He gave her a nod and she moved away to grab her hat and briefcase, murmuring a quick farewell before turning to leave.

“Hey, Specs.” She turned to see a hint of Jack’s familiar grin light up his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t go easy on me, okay?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Flyboy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Linked below is the Spotify playlist for this fanfiction, and it'll be updated every time I post a new chapter. Enjoy!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Disclaimer for a brief scene containing talk of drug addictions*

_Chapter Ten_

_Stark Mansion, Los Angeles_

Just as Jack pinned the last photograph to the board and stepped back to admire his work, there was a loud knock on the door. “It’s open!”

“Ana went searching through her knitting supplies and found what you…what’s all this?”

“This, Jarvis, is an evidence board; I used to force the boys do ‘em back in New York for certain cases, mostly so they could keep track of evidence and discover new leads.” Jack took the spool of red yarn from Jarvis and grabbed a pair of scissors before measuring and cutting off strings. “We’ve got a lot of evidence that doesn’t match up, so I thought it’d be a good idea to lay it all out and see how everything connects.”

Jarvis made an impressed sound as he examined the board on the wall. “Several months ago, Ana joined a book club and we found that it was easier for her to understand the novels if she read them aloud to me. Why don’t you try the same thing with your evidence?”

Looking up from his work, Jack gave the butler a look of suspicion. “I thought you didn’t approve of our investigation.”

“I never said that, I merely pointed out that keeping your investigation from Miss Carter was morally wrong.” Jarvis retorted as he crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Go on, then. If it makes you more comfortable, you can always pretend you’re talking to Miss (Y/L/N) instead.”

Something about the butler’s suggestive tone and the knowing gleam in his eyes caused Jack’s face to warm, and he hastily turned back towards the board with his red strings in hand. “Um, okay then. In 1917, Michael Carter was born in Hampstead, England to Harrison and Amanda Carter, and Peggy was born four years later.” Jack wrapped one end of a string around the thumbtack above Michael’s photograph and secured the other end to the one above Peggy’s SSR profile. “He kept his nose clean, made good grades in school and in ‘34, he was accepted into Cambridge University, where he studied Philosophy and Literature. He shared an apartment-sorry, a _flat_ …” He glanced at Jarvis just as the butler gave him an eye-roll. “…with Adam Fieldman and William Attwell, two other students at Cambridge.”

“And this Adam Fieldman is the one with the connection to the orangery Miss (Y/L/N) infiltrated?”

Jack nodded, using another string to connect Michael’s photograph to one of Adam Fieldman. “Yep, his old man owns it. According to one of the codes, the orangery was a front for the manufacturing and distribution of devices based on one of Stark’s stolen blueprints…at least, it was up until the other week. Anyways, I did a little digging and found out that Attwell joined the Royal Air Force in ’39 but was shot down during the Battle of Berlin; since his body was recovered from the wreck and identified by his family, we’ve ruled him out as an associate of Michael’s. Fieldman tried enlisting in the U.S. Army right after the bombing of Pearl Harbor in ’41 but when he was declared 4F on account of his scoliosis, he officially moved back to the States to work for his old man.” He pointed to a sheet of paper pinned beneath Michael’s photograph. “According to both an official British Royal Army report and a copy of an SOE file, Michael was declared missing in action in ’40; there was no body recovered, but it was assumed that he died on the battlefield and was buried in a mass grave.”

Moving forward, Jarvis gestured to a document pinned onto the lower half of the board. “And what’s this?”

“That’s a summary of all the information (Y/N) and I pulled from ‘M. Carter’s’ file. During the whole Zero Matter thing back in July, Vernon Masters sent me to London to get dirt on Peggy; a buddy of mine in MI5 gave me that file documenting her alleged war crimes, but I realized pretty quick that there’s no way Peggy could’ve done those things. I decided I’d take it back to New York with me once the Zero Matter case got closed, but not before making a copy and hiding it at the SSR; good thing I did, too, ‘cause I was shot and the original file was stolen…but anyways, yeah, that’s everything we’ve gotten from the file so far.”

“You haven’t said anything about this man,” The butler pointed to another photograph attached to a handwritten address. “Is he the one who shot you?”

“Nope, that’s Aaron Templeton and his last known address; we think he’s a hired hand who helped carry out the bank robbery downtown a few weeks back.” Jack connected his photograph to Michael’s with another string. “Based on the intel (Y/N) gathered from the orangery, Templeton was bumped off for leaving the device behind after the robbery, so that proves he wasn’t _that_ integral to their plans. They made off with forty thousand dollars in gold, so we’ve theorized that they’re using the gold to fund their operation.” He looked back at Jarvis and frowned at his befuddled expression. “What?”

Jarvis gave him a small shrug and forced smile. “Oh, it’s nothing.” But as Jack continued to stare him down, he hastily added, “Well, this may very well be my inner Agatha Christie fan speaking, but there appears to be quite a few gaps in your investigation. Who was your shooter? What exactly is Mr. Carter’s so-called operation and why does it need funding? And why did Mr. Carter supposedly write down valuable information in the file and risk possible exposure?”

“I can see why Stark keeps you around.” Jack grumbled, his good mood slowly dampening at the butler’s words; their case wasn’t simple as he presumed it was, and it was clearer than ever that if he wanted to return to New York, they had _a lot_ more work to do. And they said life after the war would be easy, Jack thought with an inward eye-roll. “Well, thanks for your honesty, Jarvis. I guess I’ll have to-”

The ringing of the telephone interrupted his words, and he watched as Jarvis strode across the room to answer it. “Mr. Stark’s residence.” His face brightened. “Miss Carter! How are you?” After a moment, his smile fell. “Chief Thompson? He’s, um, he’s sunbathing by the pool, of course; he mentioned this morning that he wished to work on his tan.” Jack rolled his eyes at the lie. “Would you like me to give him a message? Splendid, we shall see you soon.” He set the handset back down on its receiver and turned to face Jack. “That was Miss Carter. She was calling to inform you that she’ll be here shortly with some paperwork for you to sign regarding a routine prisoner transfer.”

“All right, I’m gonna give (Y/L/N) a call to let her know.” Once Jarvis left the room, Jack went over to the phone and picked up the handset before dialing the telephone number he’d unintentionally committed to memory.

“ _Hello?_ ”

The obvious exhaustion in the codebreaker’s voice caused Jack to frown in concern. “Geez, Specs, you sound like shit. I didn’t wake you up, did I? It’s almost noon!”

He could barely make out (Y/N)’s familiar sigh of exasperation. “ _You’re a real charmer, you know? And yes, in fact, you_ did _wake me up; I was up late working on a code and finally called it quits around four in the morning._ ”

“(Y/L/N)...”

“ _I know, I know, I should get more sleep but that damn code…_ ” She let out frustrated huff. “ _I take it you didn’t call just to scold me about my terrible sleep patterns, though. What’s up?_ ”

“Peggy’s coming over in a bit with paperwork for me to sign, so we’re not gonna be able to meet up until later. I’ll give you a ring to let you know when it’s okay to come over.”

“ _Okay, that’ll give me a chance to look over that code with fresh eyes. Oh, and that reminds me, when I come over I want to see what sort of progress you’re making on the code I gave you to practice with the other day._ ”

“Sure, just as soon as you cough up those two bucks you owe me.”

Jack could practically hear her rolling her eyes, and it took all he had not to laugh out loud. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

“Yeah, you bet me two bucks that the Dodgers were gonna win the World Series and last I checked, they got their asses handed to ‘em last Monday by the Yankees. Got anything smart to say to that, Specs?”

“… _Nope, have a good day!_ ”

There was a soft click before the line went silent, and Jack didn’t even bother suppressing his chuckle of amusement that time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re in an uncharacteristically good mood today, Jack; could it be that you’re finally beginning to enjoy Los Angeles?”

Jack shrugged noncommittally as he scribbled his signature on the bottom of a document. “More like beginning to _tolerate_ it.” He glanced up just in time to catch Peggy’s smirk. “What?”

Her smile widened. “Nothing, it’s just that I didn’t think very highly of Los Angeles when I first arrived out here either, but I’ve slowly grown to appreciate the… _unique_ charms that the West Coast has to offer.”

“Unique charms, huh? Is that a new nickname you’ve given to Sousa, and can I start calling him that too?”

“Sod off, Thompson.” Jack chuckled as Peggy shot him a glare; once he finished his work, she gathered up the newly-signed documents and tucked them neatly into her briefcase. “Well, that’s all I have for you. Naturally, I would’ve waited until Monday to have you sign these but the FBI was rather agitated that they hadn’t received them yet. Their charm knows no bounds, doesn’t it?”

“No kidding. They’re probably still pissed off about the whole Vernon Masters thing; it’s not the SSR’s fault he got blown to hell by Whitney Frost, but I guess they don’t see it like that.” Standing up from the dining room table, Jack faked a yawn as he stretched his arms. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Marge, I’ve gotta get some more tanning in before my afternoon nap.”

Rolling her eyes, Peggy stood and put her hat back on before grabbing her briefcase. “Well, don’t let me stop you, I’m just going to have a quick word with Mr. Jarvis before I leave.”

To keep Peggy from becoming suspicious, Jack made his way into Stark’s sprawling backyard and made himself comfortable on one of the chaise lounges beside the pool; he stretched his legs out, crossed his ankles and, with his hands resting behind his head, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Yeah, maybe I _could_ get used to this…”

Although Jack would never publicly admit it, Peggy’s speculation had been correct; the longer he’d stayed in Los Angeles, the more he’d been enjoying himself. The endless sunshine and glitzy Hollywood scene couldn’t take all the credit for his feelings, as that honor belonged to a certain snarky codebreaker. Since the end of the war, he hadn’t exactly had friends. He’d had many great coworkers and a couple of brief romantic flings, sure, but he’d never truly felt comfortable enough around any of them to open up in any sort of meaningful way. With (Y/N), however, it was a different story and he’d found himself appreciating her more and more for that as their partnership grew. You’d better not get too comfortable, he once again warned himself, as soon as you solve this case you’re headed back to New York, hopefully to bigger and better things if you’re lucky, and she’ll still be here…

The nearby sound of a dry leaf being stepped on startled Jack out of his silent contemplation; snapping his eyes open, he looked over just in time to see a large, black-clad man lunging towards him with a knife in hand. Acting on instinct, Jack rolled himself off the lounge chair and sprang to his feet in time to dodge another swipe of his knife. Jack caught the man’s wrist and twisted it sharply so that the knife slipped out of his grasp; he kicked it into the pool just before the man landed a hard punch on his jaw that sent him reeling. The man kicked his stomach and his back hit the wall of the pool house hard; before Jack could react, the man punched him again before wrapping his hands around his neck and squeezing. Struggling for air, Jack slammed his arms down on the man’s and used the distraction to head-butt him before landing a couple of punches to his face, the last one causing the man to drop unconscious to the ground.

Panting, Jack wiped away a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and took the opportunity to get a good look at his attacker; he was light-haired, muscular and definitely familiar, but Jack couldn’t think of where he might’ve seen him before.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Thompson! Thompson?”

Peggy’s faint call made Jack spring into action; he picked his attacker up in a fireman’s hold and staggered into the pool house, throwing the unconscious man onto the ground and slamming the door closed behind him. He peeked through the curtains just as Peggy came into view; she glanced around the backyard for a moment before shrugging and going back into the house, much to Jack’s relief. He glanced back down at the man on the floor with a deepening frown. “Now, who the hell are _you_?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Almost as soon as (Y/N) laid eyes on Jack, her easy-going smile was replaced with a look of concern; when she gently touched his chin and moved his head to get a better look at his swollen cheek and neck, Jack was grateful that his blush was masked by the rapidly-forming bruises. “He really did a number on you, Flyboy. Are you _sure_ you’re okay?”

“Well, I’m definitely doing better than he is.” Jack tried to grin but only ended up wincing in pain. “Not by much, though. C’mon, I’ve got him tied up in the pool house; let’s wake him up and find out who he is.” He led her into the backyard and to the pool house, holding the door open for (Y/N) to enter. “There’s something about him that seems familiar, but-”

“I know who he is.” Jack turned towards her and watched as she stared down at the unconscious man tied to a chair. “He’s one of the guards from Fieldman Family Orangery; I knocked him out with my compact mirror.” She looked back up at him, her brow furrowed in concern. “It looks like you just foiled another one of their assassination attempts.”

He nodded. “And this time I’m getting a few answers for my troubles.” Striding over to the man, Jack kicked the leg of the chair and stepped back when the man jolted awake. “Had a good nap, Sleeping Beauty? Now, my partner and I are gonna need you to answer a few questions for us, so how ‘bout we start with a name.”

The man spat onto the ground and growled, “Screw you.”

“Well, that’s not very polite.” Jack quipped, grabbing the man’s blonde hair and wrenching his head up before punching him in the face; the man groaned and Jack stepped back to look at the rapidly-swelling welt on his cheek. “How ‘bout we try that again; _who are you_?”

“You’re gonna…you’re gonna have to try harder than that, Chief Thompson.”

Jack raised his fist to strike him again just as (Y/N) latched onto his arm. “Thompson, wait! We’re never going to get him to talk this way-”

“Sure we are, every suspect I interrogated for the SSR started singin’ like a bird after only five minutes alone in a room with me.” He gave the man a hard glare over (Y/N)’s shoulder before looking back down at her. “This mook won’t be a problem.”

(Y/N) huffed with impatience. “I don’t doubt that you’re a skilled interrogator, Flyboy, but I’m telling you that he’s on a whole other level. If we’re going to get information out of him, we need to try another way and I think I’ve got one.” Her (Y/E/C) eyes pleaded with him to trust her and after a long moment, Jack sighed and took a step back; her gaze softened as she gave him a brief nod. “Thank you.”

The man let out a snort of amusement when (Y/N) approached him, her arms crossed over her chest. “Hey there, sweet-cheeks. What’s a pretty thing like you gonna do to me? Teach me to crochet?”

Jack’s hands clenched into fists but he forced himself to stay calm and let (Y/N) continue the interrogation herself; she smiled easily at the man and began pacing before him. “No, but we can always get to that later on if you’re not feeling too sick.” Both Jack and the man frowned in confusion. “Oh, I recognized it the moment I stepped into this room; you’re an opiate addict. As I’m sure you know, it can be very uncomfortable for an addict to be without their chosen drug for too long and judging by the way you look right now, it’s been quite a while since you’ve had a fix.”

“I…I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about…” The man’s face had lost all color and his hands were twitching against the arms of the chair.

“Right now, you’re experiencing some heavy sweating and anxiety, but you’re most likely used to those symptoms at this point in your addiction.” (Y/N) sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Unfortunately for you, though, what you’re feeling now is nothing compared to how you’re going to feel later tonight. Abdominal cramping, tremors, vomiting…yes, it’s going to be a very uncomfortable time for you, especially since no one but the two of us knows you’re here.” How the hell does she know so much about dope addictions, Jack silently pondered, adding it to the ever-expanding list of questions he’d been dying to ask his partner. She turned back to face the man, her mouth set in a hard line. “So if you want to avoid all that unpleasantness, then I suggest you answer my partner’s question; who are you?”

The man immediately stammered out, “P-Peter Hanson.”

Jack moved to stand beside (Y/N). “Good, that wasn’t so hard. Why were you trying to kill me?”

“I was hired to, okay? The boss of my boss thought you were onto him so I was hired to bump you off in your hotel room! Once the main boss heard you were still alive, I was hired again and told that if I fail this time, he’d cut off my supply.” Jack and (Y/N) exchanged looks of confusion, and Hanson added impatiently, “My _dope supply_ , he knows that I need it!”

(Y/N) crossed her arms once again. “All right, then. Now, tell us the names of your bosses, what they were up to at Fieldman Family Orangery and where they are now.”

Hanson let out a frustrated growl and bit his lip before answering, “The guy who hired me, his name’s Thomas, Thomas Attwell, but I don’t know the main boss’ name or what they do. I haven’t seen any of ‘em in weeks, either.”

“You hungry, Specs? How ‘bout we go grab a bite to eat and come back later?” Jack suggested. “I’m sure our new friend here wouldn’t mind waiting for us…”

“ _I’m not lyin’_! I’m just a hired hitman, my boss never talked serious business ‘round me!” Hanson frowned, as if he was trying to recall something. “I remember one time, though, Attwell was talkin’ to another guy at the orangery – son of the guy who owned the place, I think – and he kept callin’ their work a ‘Secret Empire’ or somethin’ like that, like it was a code.” (Y/N)’s eyes widened at his words, but before Jack could react, Hanson shakily continued. “Look, these guys are nuts; I saw them torture and kill a guy just ‘cause they said he lost somethin’ important to ‘em, and that’s not even the worst thing I’ve seen. I just wanna get away from ‘em before I get in too deep…”

“Well, we need to verify the information you’ve given us before there’s any talk of what to do with you, so if you’ll excuse us…” (Y/N) ushered Jack out of the pool house and closed the door before hurrying alongside him into the mansion and to his room, where their evidence board was still hanging on the wall; she quickly made a bee-line to the board and, after putting on her reading glasses, looked over the documents and photographs pinned onto it. “Where’s the-ah, here! Yep, Thomas Attwell is the younger brother of William Attwell, Michael’s former roommate in college; I’d bet my Fleetmaster that he’s the mystery man I heard talking in the orangery.”

Standing beside her, Jack pointed to the photograph of Adam Fieldman. “And you were right about what you said the other week, Fieldman’s definitely the second guy you heard in the orangery.” He grabbed his red yarn strings and a pen, working on amending the board as he talked. “From the sound of it, Fieldman’s in charge of the manufacturing and distribution aspect of their little operation while Attwell’s there to keep their guys in check for Michael. But we still don’t know why the hell they’re robbing banks with stolen Stark tech-”

“I do.” With a weary look, (Y/N) took of her reading glasses and set them on the desk beside them. “The Secret Empire isn’t code for anything, it’s the name of an organization that existed within Hydra during the war. Originally, it started out as a criminal enterprise that generated financial support for Hydra after they broke away from Hitler and the Nazis; they also worked to secretly distract the SSR from Hydra’s activities whenever they could so needless to say, they were a massive pain in our asses throughout the war.”

Jack furrowed his brow in confusion. “If they only existed during the war, then why’s there a chucklehead in the pool house saying they’re still around?”

“Before Steve Rogers took down Hydra in ‘45, there were some rumors going around that the Secret Empire wanted to break away and form their own independent group. It was just here-say, though, and when Hydra fell we all assumed that the Secret Empire went down with them; thinking back on it now, it _was_ a little weird that there was complete and total radio-silence on their end…” (Y/N) bit her lip as her gaze danced between Jack and the evidence board. “What if a new iteration of the Secret Empire got a hold of Howard’s blueprints, used them to manufacture weapons and began committing bank robberies as a way to build their organization back up?”

“That explains why the bank robbers ignored the cash and only went after the gold; that’s a universal currency if I’ve ever seen one.” With a sigh, Jack stepped forward and tapped a finger against the photograph of a smiling Michael Carter. “So, I guess Michael really _was_ Hydra the whole time, and now he’s a member of this new Secret Empire. There’s one question Hanson didn’t answer, though: What’s their next move?”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind them. They both whirled around to see Howard Stark standing in their doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and his signature smirk on his face. “I think I can answer that one for you, Chief Thompson. But first, could you two do somethin’ about the guy in the pool house? I’ve got a pool party scheduled for later tonight and I can’t have him ruining the mood for everyone…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Linked below is the Spotify playlist for this fanfiction, and it'll be updated every time I post a new chapter. Enjoy!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW


	11. Chapter 11

_Chapter Eleven_

_Stark Mansion, Los Angeles_

Although (Y/N) had long-since grown accustom to living an unconventional lifestyle, she never expected to spend her Friday afternoon sitting in the living room of Howard Stark’s mansion and watching as the inventor showed off the equipment that she and Jack would be using that evening while dressed in a blue silk robe with her hair set in tight curlers. Reminds me of the good old days, (Y/N) thought to herself, biting back a fond smile as she recalled the look on Howard’s face when Peggy shot at Steve Rogers’ brand-new vibranium shield in the middle of his SSR laboratory.

On the same day (Y/N) and Jack had interrogated Jack’s would-be assassin, Howard informed them that through his various connections, he’d learned that a batch of his illegally-manufactured weapons were going to be handed off at The Palladium, a lively nightclub on Sunset Boulevard. And since he wanted to ensure that the copies of his invention wouldn’t fall into the hands of criminals again, Howard insisted on helping them run their undercover operation and both Edwin and Ana Jarvis volunteered their services to them not long after. (Y/N) was grateful for the extra help, of course, but it was incredibly awkward working alongside Howard after she’d slapped the man across the face the last time they’d spoken. Neither of them had brought the incident up, but they’d been nothing but civil to one another.

“And here we’ve got the two-way communication radios.” Howard pulled a jewelry box out of his briefcase and opened it to reveal a stunning diamond necklace and drop earrings. “These are yours, of course; I’m not sure Thompson can pull off diamonds like you can.”

She raised a curious brow. “Tiffany or Cartier?”

The inventor scoffed and grinned good-naturedly. “Tiffany, naturally. Only the best for a Stark invention!” He set the jewelry box down and reached for a pair of glasses. “These are for Thompson, but…wait, there’s a scratch on the lens. Jarvis!”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” The butler’s voice drifted through the hallway from the laundry room, where he was busy cleaning Jack’s dinner jacket.

“Did you scratch my two-way communication radio glasses when you went undercover with that Russian dame?”

“…I don’t know what you’re referring to, Mr. Stark.”

Howard sighed dramatically. “ _Butlers_. ‘Scuse me for a moment, would ya?” Grumbling under his breath about how his inventions deserved more respect, Howard disappeared down the hall.

Shaking her head, (Y/N) stood from her spot on the couch and grabbed her cosmetic case before making her way over to the large mirror beside the piano. Her makeup looked fine but she knew she needed to keep herself busy to distract from her nervousness; carefully touching up her eyelashes, she couldn’t help but worry that she would somehow ruin their mission with her inexperience in going undercover.

“Sorry I’m late, I had a telephone call from Agent Cabrera that went on forever and-” Through the mirror, (Y/N) watched Jack enter the living room with a weary look on his face that quickly brightened once he caught sight of her ridiculous appearance. “You look, ah-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Flyboy, because I’m sure that whatever you were about to say would only end up trying my already-thin patience.”

With his trademark grin on his face, Jack raised his hands in surrender and went over to the table that Howard’s inventions rested on. “ _Someone’s_ in a testy mood today. Did Stark piss you off or something, ‘cause you said you weren’t gonna let him get to you-”

“No, it’s not him, it’s…” (Y/N) trailed off as the anxiety she’d been feeling all day began to slowly bubble up within her; swallowing thickly, she set down her tin of cake mascara and its brush before turning to face Jack. “I don’t think I can do this, Thompson, I can’t go undercover at that club tonight. I’ll only end up giving us away and our investigation really can’t afford any mistakes and you said I’d be a bad spy anyways and-”

“Specs, just breathe, okay?” In three long strides Jack was standing before her, his blue eyes filled with concern as he looked her over. “C’mon, take a seat for a sec.” He led her to the couch and leaned against its arm as she sat down. “Look, I know that you’re nervous about going undercover but you really shouldn’t be; we’ve gone over the plan every day this week and I taught you everything I know about what to do and what not to do while undercover. Hell, you even took _notes_!” (Y/N) cracked a small smile at that, and he reached forward to hold her shoulder. “My point is that you know exactly what you’ve gotta do, Specs, and even though you might not believe that right now, I sure as hell do.”

Jack’s words and soft smile combined with the hand resting on her shoulder caused butterflies to erupt in (Y/N)’s stomach. She was thankfully spared from trying to form a coherent sentence by the re-entrance of Howard Stark, who was followed closely by Edwin and Ana Jarvis; Jack quickly withdrew his hand and leaned away from her just as the inventor looked over at them. “Glad you could finally join us, Chief Thompson! Ready to see your duds for the evening?”

“Okay, I get showing off your tech gadgets, Stark, but why bother with the clothes-?”

Edwin cut off Jack’s inquiry with a look. “It’s best to indulge Mr. Stark, as he cares very much about fashion.” (Y/N) and Jack exchanged matching looks of amusement while the butler held up a garment-laden hangar. “Your dinner jacket, Chief Thompson, along with a waistcoat, bow tie and pocket square. All freshly pressed and ironed, of course.”

“And your [evening gown](https://rosebudvintage.tumblr.com/post/26778244350/evening-gown-by-jacques-fath-1947-from-the-met) is in one of the spare bedrooms, Miss (Y/L/N), so if you’ll come with me…” (Y/N) followed Ana down the hall and into the bedroom, where a pale pink satin gown hung off the top of the wardrobe. “It was designed by Jacques Fath; Mr. Stark procured it during his trip to the Paris World’s Fair in August.” Noticing (Y/N)’s raised brow, Ana sighed to herself and added, “Mr. Stark is always searching for items he can give as gifts to his many…admirers. I saved this gown from such a fate; I had a hunch that it will suit you far better than it would have suited Joan Blondell.”

“ _The_ Joan Blondell?! Well, Ana, you definitely know how to inflate a person’s ego.”

“Of course I do! I work for Howard Stark, after all.”

Laughing, the two women went about finishing (Y/N)’s look for the evening; she brushed and teased her hair into submission, pinning it up into an elaborate chignon at the top of her head as Ana finished sewing her garter-holster. Just as the dusk began to settle outside, (Y/N) carefully slipped on the delicate gown and allowed Ana to tightly lace up the back, stifling her winces of pain as the boning in the bodice dug into her ribs. Tonight had better be worth all this, she inwardly grumbled as Ana left the room to help Howard and Edwin prepare their surveillance truck. Once she stepped into her matching satin heels, she smoothed out the skirt of the gown before turning to look at her reflection in the floor-length mirror.

It took (Y/N) several long moments to comprehend that it was really her own reflection she was gaping at; the evening gown, while not something she’d ever considered wearing in her lifetime, was stunning and bold on her. The bodice clung tightly to her torso and synched at her waist, giving her the illusion of an hourglass figure, and the off-the-shoulder rouching gave the gown a daring element that made her simultaneously grin and flush the longer she stared into the mirror. If this dress isn’t a confidence booster than I don’t know what is, (Y/N) reasoned, giggling to herself as she twirled in a small circle and enjoyed the feeling of her skirt billowing around her.

There was a knock on the bedroom door. “Hey (Y/N), ya decent?”

(Y/N) smoothed out the skirt of the gown once more and gave her reflection another glance before calling back, “Yes, it’s open!” She turned around as Howard entered the room with his briefcase in hand. “How do I look?”

“Like a million bucks! You’re gonna fit right in with the crowd at The Palladium. Speaking of which, I just gave the manager a ring and had him put you both on the entry list under your fake names; you two shouldn’t have any trouble getting in now.” With a grin, he set his briefcase down on the bed and pulled out the jewelry box containing her diamond necklace and earrings. “It took a little convincing, but that flyboy of yours finally agreed to wear the glasses.”

“He’s not _my_ flyboy, Howard; it’s just the nickname I gave him when we first met and it ended up sticking.”

The inventor looked unconvinced as he handed her the jewelry box and watched her put on the accessories. “Uh-huh. I’ve got another gift but you’ve gotta keep it to yourself, okay? The last thing I want is for another of my inventions to wind up in the wrong hands.” Curious, (Y/N) watched as Howard withdrew an ordinary gold lipstick tube out of the briefcase and gingerly accepted it when he offered it to her. “It’s okay, it’s just a tube of lipstick. I developed different formulas specifically for use in female espionage; this particular formula can make a person forget their last few minutes with just one kiss, and its pigment just so happens to match that dress of yours.”

“Howard, this is amazing!” She closely examined the lipstick tube, raising her eyebrows in amusement when she noticed the etching on the side of the tube: [_103-Forget Me Not_](http://sartorialgeek.com/cosmetic-corner-besame-cosmetics-field-agent-lip-kit/). “Really, it is! I’ll be sure to put some on before we leave…” Seeing the cheerful expression on Howard’s face reminded her of their comradery during the war, before their friendship abruptly ended in tragedy, and the memory of their most recent exchange filled her with shame; she set the tube of lipstick down on the vanity beside them before reaching forward to clasp one of his hands in her own. “Howard, I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately and I want to apologize for how I’ve treated you since the end of the war.”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before meeting Howard’s concerned gaze. “Howard, what happened to…to Freddie, it wasn’t your fault. I was angry and I was hurt, but it was still wrong of me to blame you for what happened in Düsseldorf.” Blinking away the stinging tears in her eyes, (Y/N) let out another steadying breath. “If anyone’s to be blamed, it really should only be-”

Howard cut her off with a firm shake of his head. “Nope, I don’t wanna hear you finish that sentence. You did _everything_ you could to try and prevent what happened, you hear me? And if Freddie were here you know he’d agree with me.” He gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “I learned a little while back that the road to self-forgiveness ain’t exactly a smooth one, (Y/N), so if you ever need to talk…”

That was the final straw for (Y/N); she surged forward and wrapped her arms tightly around the inventor, hugging him for the first time since the war. Howard returned the embrace and when they pulled apart, she could’ve sworn she heard him sniffle before flashing her a teasing grin. “So, what brought on such a change of heart? That flyboy of yours?”

“ _Howard_ …”

“What? It’s just a simple question!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much to (Y/N)’s relief, going undercover was less intimidating than she originally anticipated; she and Jack entered The Palladium with no fuss, all thanks to Howard’s earlier telephone call to the nightclub’s owner. I suppose it pays to be friends with a genius millionaire, (Y/N) thought to herself as she clandestinely scanned the crowded and dimly-lit room, taking care not to stare at her partner beside her lest she make a complete fool of herself again.

To say that (Y/N) had been taken aback when she laid eyes on Jack Thompson and his undercover attire would be an understatement. She’d always considered him to be a handsome man, even back when they were less-than-friendly to one another, but seeing him dressed in formal attire and glasses caused something within her to stir; she remembered making a dumb quip about the glasses to mask her reaction but because she’d been so stunned she couldn’t recall what it was for the life of her. You can’t afford any distractions right now, she silently chided herself, not when you’ve got a job to do.

“ _This is Stark One, requesting a status report from Specs and the Flyboy, over._ ”

(Y/N) couldn’t suppress her exasperated groan and apparently, neither could her partner; using the loud music from the band to cover his voice, Jack shot back, “Stark, do me a favor and don’t call me that again. _Ever_.”

“ _Oh, so only (Y/N) can call you that? Over._ ”

“Yes.” Both (Y/N) and Jack replied, and they looked at each other in surprise; embarrassed, (Y/N) hastily cleared her throat and quietly hissed, “Don’t you have something better to do than sit in a surveillance van with your butler, Howard?”

“ _Yeah, but Rosalyn Russell’s out of town this weekend. Over._ ”

Wrinkling her nose at the inventor’s crudeness, (Y/N) lowly replied, “Phase One’s come off without a hitch, we’ll let you know when something comes up. And quit with the radio jargon, okay?” Glancing over at Jack beside her, she furrowed her brow in confusion as she watched him repeatedly adjust his glasses. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve never worn specs before; I guess they take a little getting used to, huh?” They managed to extricate themselves from the dense crowd surrounding the dance floor and immediately claimed a small table in the corner that overlooked a fair amount of the nightclub; to keep up appearances, Jack helped her into her seat before moving to occupy the chair across from her. As he opened his drink menu and pretended to peruse it, he quietly murmured, “All right, Specs, what do you see?”

The first thing Jack had taught her about going undercover was to simply observe; every detail could be important, so it was crucial that an agent absorb as much as possible without attracting notice. With a serene smile on her face, (Y/N) reached into her clutch and withdrew her compact mirror. She opened it and as she fussed over her chignon, she took the opportunity to scan the room behind her. “Um…the waiters are all wearing white dinner jackets and gloves, to distinguish themselves from the patrons. The steps behind me lead down a hallway and it looks like that’s where the restrooms are. There’s also a guy hanging out alone by the steps and smoking a cigarette; he looks tense.” Giving her reflection an approving nod, she snapped it closed and stowed it away, taking the opportunity to glance in the direction of the dance floor. “The kitchens are behind those batwing doors, so I count at least two entry and exit points.”

“Good.” Jack glanced up and inclined his head to her, his concentration quickly shifting into an easy-going demeanor as a waiter approached the table. “Two rum and cokes, on the rocks.” The grin on his face didn’t fade when the waiter turned his back, but out of the corner of his mouth he mumbled, “And the people?”

“No one stands out except for that guy by the steps.” (Y/N) concluded after giving the dance floor another long glance. “They’re not here yet.” The waiter reappeared with their drinks, and (Y/N) put on a flirtatious smile as she batted her eyes at him. “Thanks, sugar!” The waiter flushed red and quickly set the drinks down before scurrying away. “Jumpy sort of fella. Did I scare him or something?”

Jack cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “Um, the opposite, I think. I doubt the little pipsqueak’s used to having a beautiful gal flirt with him like that.” He turned his attention to the dance floor, but not before (Y/N) caught sight of his flushed face. Jack Thompson just called me beautiful, she thought to herself, feeling stunned yet flattered as she attempted not to stare in his direction. “Jarvis, what’s the view from outside?”

“ _Nothing out of the ordinary. I believe Miss (Y/L/N)’s earlier speculation was correct; your seller has not arrived just yet._ ”

“ _Your buyer’s here, though. My source said he drives a white ‘47 Bentley Mark VI, and there’s one parked right down the block from us._ ” (Y/N) could faintly make out Howard’s snort of derision. “ _Tacky. He’s probably busy drinkin’ or chattin’ up dames while he waits for the seller. That other guy, though, sounds like he’s his bodyguard; from what I hear the buyer’s a crime boss, so it makes sense he’d have some backup with him._ ”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Jack took a swig of his drink and glanced around the room with a frown on his face. “We’re drawing too much attention over here.” Sure enough, when (Y/N) looked up from her drink she caught sight of a handful of men and women curiously eyeing them up; glancing around, she quickly realized that they were now the only couple seated at the tables.

Over the communication radio, Edwin cleared his throat. “ _To better blend in, perhaps you and Miss (Y/L/N) should dance. You’ll also be better equipped to, as they say, ‘scope out the area.’_ ”

Without missing a beat, (Y/N) grabbed her clutch and held out her free hand to Jack. Since they were still being watched by the nearby patrons, she knew that she’d have to fully lean into her undercover persona as a ditzy smile formed on her lips. “C’mon, Johnny, I love this song and you _promised_ me we’d dance tonight!”

“Sure thing, doll face.” After standing and grabbing her hand, he hauled her up and led her to the edge of the dance floor while the other patrons finally stopped watching them. “Nice one back there, Specs. You ever notice that rich people are too nosy for their own good?” They both stifled their chuckles as they listened to Howard’s indignant grumble and Edwin’s hum of agreement through their communication radios.

It wasn’t until (Y/N) was staring up into Jack’s blue eyes that she realized they were dancing together to the band’s slow playing. She was instantly aware of just how close they were to one another and how she could feel the warmth of his hand on her waist through the silk rouching of her gown; feeling her face beginning to warm, she tore her gaze away from her partner and let out a nervous laugh as she watched the other couples. “You know, this is the first time I’ve danced since the war.”

“Really?” The surprise in Jack’s voice drew her gaze back to him; his brow was raised, and she could see that he was genuinely interested in her offhand comment. “Any particular reason why?”

“War sticks with some people longer than others, I guess.” (Y/N) looked back to him and shrugged noncommittally. “After everything that I’d seen and gone through in Europe, with both the OSS and the SSR, the thought of immediately going out and celebrating felt…wrong. Disingenuous, even. Everyone was so damn quick to move on and forget about those years – and I definitely understand why – but whenever I tried, I just…”

“Couldn’t.” Jack finished her sentence and she gave him a small nod. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” His eyes had filled with an unusual emotion but before (Y/N) could identify it, he began scanning the room with a neutral smile on his face. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Specs, your dancing’s pretty decent for someone who’s out of practice.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile playfully up at him. “You’re not very good at giving out compliments that don’t come across as insults, are you, Flyboy?”

As per usual, Jack rolled his eyes at her teasing. “You know what I mean.” The slow song came to an end and the band swiftly started up a fast-paced number; that made her partner raise a challenging brow at her and never one to bow out of a competition, (Y/N)’s smile widened as she allowed Jack to promptly whisk her into a foxtrot. In all the time she’d known Jack, she’d never seen him looking so… _happy_. The mask of seriousness he always wore around others had relaxed into a cheerful grin, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but think about how well it suited her partner as she beamed up at him. As they continued to dance, she suddenly realized that her earlier nervousness about going undercover had very quickly morphed into fear that Jack would somehow hear how quickly her heart beat in her chest every time their eyes met. But too soon, their perfect moment was shattered by reality.

“ _A suspicious-looking man just entered the nightclub, and I believe it may be your seller._ ”

Without missing a step, Jack quickly turned his attention from her to the stairs leading to the hallway. “Yep, the bodyguard’s gone, probably to go and get the buyer. Time for Phase Two.”

Phase Two of their evening involved locating where the business transaction would take place within the nightclub and quickly planting listening devices within them before the meeting began. Based on blueprints Officer Zhang had obtained and Howard’s own descriptions of the building, there were only two possible meeting locations; Jack was responsible for bugging the back room in the kitchens while (Y/N) would take care of the private office near the restrooms. Since the bugs had a limited battery charge, they could only plant them in their perspective locations right before the meeting began so they could be sure to record the entire exchange. Once they finished, the plan was for Howard and Jarvis to leave in the surveillance truck while Jack and (Y/N) would leave together in one of the inventor’s numerous cars; they would then send Officer Zhang into the club the next morning to retrieve the devices under the ruse of a routine fire safety inspection.

As the song came to an end, she and Jack joined the small crowd of people making their way off the dance floor; many of them headed off in the direction of the bar and tables while the rest of them walked up the steps and down the hallway to the restrooms. They blended into the small crowd well and once they reached the hallway, they slowed their steps and allowed the others to walk in front of them. the hallway branched off into two different directions, but the crowd of people all turned down the right-hand hallway. After announcing he’d go order another round of drinks while she powdered her nose in the restroom, Jack gave (Y/N) a barely discernible nod before turning and disappearing into the fray.

“Chin up, shoulders relaxed.” (Y/N) quietly repeated her own partner’s advice to herself, plastering a pleasant smile on her face and strolling casually down the hallway; in an effort to quell the tell-tale tremble of her hands, she tightened her hold on her clutch. “Where do you want the device placed, again?”

“ _Doesn’t matter, so long as there’s no audio interference; if you can, try placin’ it away from any doors or vents. And be very careful, those are delicate pieces of technology._ ”

“Copy that.” Glancing around her surroundings and confirming she was indeed alone, (Y/N) turned and swiftly made her way down the left-hand hallway, silently praying that the unsettling feeling in her stomach was due to nerves and not an omen of things to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, here goes nothing.” Following Howard’s hurried instructions, (Y/N) pressed a sequence of buttons on the listening device and fastened it to the underside of the large desk in the center of the room. “All right, the little green light is on.”

“ _Good, that means the device is on and recording. Since our work here’s done, we’re gonna turn off the communication devices and head back to the mansion; Thompson just finished plantin’ his bug and he’s gonna meet up with you out in the hall, okay?_ ”

“Got it.” Once she stood up, (Y/N) took a brief moment to smooth out the skirt of her gown and fix her hair; as she did, a feeling of calm washed over her and she didn’t bother fighting the triumphant smile that formed on her lips, marveling at how easy her first undercover mission had been. It helps to have a talented teacher, of course, she thought a little shyly, picturing Jack’s cheerful grin as they danced together for the first time.

Suddenly aware that her thoughts had wandered to how appealing his lips looked whenever he grinned, (Y/N) gave her head a small shake, muttering a quick “Get ahold of yourself” under her breath as she snatched up her clutch and crossed the room to the door. Before she could reach the door, though, there was the unmistakable sound of rapidly approaching footsteps out in the hall that only grew louder by the second; acting on instinct, (Y/N) yanked up the silk skirt of her gown and reached for the holstered gun in her garter. The gun was nearly in her hand as the door swung open to reveal a panting and disheveled Jack Thompson.

“Jack, what the-?”

Without hesitation, Jack slammed the door closed behind him and looked wildly around the room; his eyes quickly fell on the wardrobe in the corner and with a determined look on his face, he grabbed her hand, yanked her along to the wardrobe and hastily pulled her into it before swinging the door closed and plunging them into semi-darkness. Just as she opened her mouth in protest, he clamped a hand over it and whispered harshly, “I just got made by the security guy and he’s right on my-”

Through the wardrobe’s wooden door, (Y/N) heard the office door open with a resounding _bang_ , instantly silencing Jack and causing him to slowly pull her farther into the wardrobe. Heavy footsteps moved throughout the room, presumably because the security guard was searching every possible hiding spot for Jack; any minute now he’s going to open that door and find us, she thought to herself as her forehead beaded with sweat, getting out of this pickle’s going to be harder than putting lipstick on a pig…

The lipstick! In that instant, she formulated a plan that would ensure that their undercover mission wouldn’t be compromised; saying a silent prayer that her partner would understand her coded message, (Y/N) raised a hand to the one that was still clamped over her mouth and used her forefinger to hastily tap against it in Morse Code.

_“I’ve got a plan.”_

She could feel Jack stiffen behind her and after an antagonizing moment, he rested his free hand on her shoulder and tapped out a choppy reply on her bare skin. _“Little rusty. Plan?”_

Confident that he could understand her messages, (Y/N) began tapping out a long reply as the security guard’s footsteps grew closer and closer to their hiding spot. Jack quickly followed her silent instructions, dropping the hand from over her mouth and moving farther behind the coats and garments as (Y/N) tiptoed to the very front of the wardrobe and positioned herself so that her skirt would hide her partner’s legs from sight; she withdrew her lipstick tube from her clutch and swiped a fresh coat over her lips, tucking the tube away just as the security guard’s footsteps stopped in front of the wardrobe.

The things I do for Peggy Carter, (Y/N) quietly bemoaned; the wardrobe door swung open and quick as a flash, she surged forward and pressed her lips against the security guard’s, forcing herself to keep their lips locked together for several moments, then allowed Jack to wrap his arms around her waist and wrench her further into the wardrobe, quickly turning and positioning himself around her so that she was completely hidden from view. They held their breaths and listened intently as the security guard came to his senses, muttering confusedly for several moments before closing the wardrobe’s door and stomping out of the office. (Y/N)’s entire body remained frozen against Jack’s, her mind hardly believing that their off-the-cuff plan had actually worked. A tension-filled moment later, she felt Jack’s forefinger gently tapping against her shoulder.

_“Guard’s gone.”_

“Oh, thank God.” (Y/N) spoke quietly, her body relaxing as she let out a sigh of relief. “I can’t believe that worked!”

In the semi-darkness, she could make out her partner’s growing grin. “Yeah, that was genius, Specs…where the hell did you get that lipstick, though? The OSS?”

“Nope, Howard Stark.”

Jack let out a snort of amusement. “Should’ve known; Peggy’s got one just like it, only hers can put a fella to sleep. Well, remind me to thank Stark for that if we get out of this alive.”

“Duly noted. Do you think it’s safe to…?” When (Y/N) finally met Jack’s gaze, the proud gleam in his blue eyes caused her to forget what she was going to say; she was fairly certain that he’d never looked at that way before and judging by how hard her heart was hammering in her chest, she certainly liked it. Since his arms were still wound securely around her waist, she could feel his larger hands flexing a little as they pressed against her back and it was suddenly quite warm inside the cramped wardrobe. “I-”

The sound of the office door opening instantly silenced (Y/N)’s next words, and both her and Jack’s attention was instantly drawn to the multiple voices entering the room.

“…must be losin’ his touch. If he keeps it up, I’ll have to start lookin’ for a new bodyguard.”

“It seems we both have had troubles with the help lately. One of my hitmen is missing in action, no doubt lying dead in an alleyway somewhere. Addicted to substances, you see…”

“Well, Mr. Attwell, here’s hopin’ our luck improves.” As the first man poured himself a drink, (Y/N) and Jack exchanged a brief glance, not needing Morse Code to communicate their mutual surprise. Thomas Attwell, one of the main members of Michael Carter’s supposed operation and the one who they suspected kept their underlings in line, was the one selling the batch of illegally-manufactured weapons. Even without the reference to the opiate-addicted hitman Peter Hanson, who they’d recently helped leave the country, (Y/N) recognized his voice from when she’d briefly overheard him during her infiltration of Fieldman Family Orangery. “Care for a drink?”

“Perhaps later, when our transaction is complete. My associate should be-ah, here he is!” Thomas exclaimed as the office door opened once again. “Is everything in order?”

“Yes, the delivery truck’s just arrived and the guards are in place.” The new man closed the door and stepped further into the room before continuing. “Apologies for my tardiness, Mr. Stompanato. We haven’t been properly introduced, my name is Michael Carter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Linked below is the Spotify playlist for this fanfiction, and it'll be updated every time I post a new chapter. Enjoy!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW


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